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The works of Mr. Thomas Brown

Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse; In four volumes. The Fourth Edition, Corrected, and much Enlarged from his Originals never before publish'd. With a key to all his Writings

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Hor. Ode 27. l. 1.
  
  
  
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Hor. Ode 27. l. 1.

Natus in Usum lætitiæ Scyphis
Pugnare, Thracum est.

I.

To fight in your Cups, and abuse the good Creature,
Believe it, my Friends, is a Sin of that Nature,
That were you all damn'd for a tedious long Year
To nasty Mundungus, and heath'nish small Beer,
Such as after Debauches your Sparks of the Town,
For a pennance next Morning devoutly pour down,
It would not attone for so vile a Transgression,
You're a Scandal to all of the drinking Profession.

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II.

What a pox do ye bellow, and make such a Pother,
And throw Candlesticks, Bottles, and Pipes at each other?
Come keep the King's Peace, leave your damning and sinking,
And gravely return to good Christian drinking.
He that flinches his Glass, and to drink is not able,
Let him quarrel no more, but knock under the Table.

III.

Well, Faith, since you've rais'd my ill Nature so high,
I'll drink on no other Condition, not I,
Unless my old Friend in the Corner declares
What Mistress he Courts, and whose Colours he wears:
You may safely acquaint me, for I'm none of those
That use to divulge what's spoke under the Rose.
Come, part with't . . . What she! forbid it ye Powers,
What unfortunate Planet rul'd o'er thy Amours?
Why Man she has lain (Oh thy Fate how I pity!)
With half the blue Breeches and Whigs in the City.
Go thank Mr. Parson, give him thanks with a Curse,
Oh those damnable Words, For better for worse.
To regain your old Freedom you vainly endeavour,
Your Doxy and You no Priest can dissever,
You must dance in the Circle, you must dance in't for ever.