20. The degrees of Bacchus.
Here I will closely stand to my devotion,
And wil not stir til we have dreyn'd the ocean.
Here Ile commence brave matters, and aspire
In Bacchus schoole, till I can climb no higher.
Drawer attend me with a cheerfull cheek,
And doe not let my liquor be to seek:
For if thou dost, vile brat, (by Jove) I tell ye,
Ile mortifie thy bones into a jelly.
The 1. Glasse.
Nhah, what is this? the biting of a flea
Into a Beare, a drop unto the sea.
Dull rogue, recrute my cup, fill up the pot,
Keep nothing void, nature admits it not.
Hast thou not heard it on Apollo's drum,
Natura non admittit vacuum?
Supply, supply me with another quick;
This is devoured even at a lick.
2.
Again, again recrute, and do not smother
A good beginning: help me with another;
3.
And yet another, with a nimble hand.
Quick, be obedient unto my command.
4.
These are but empty Prologues, you shall find
There is a Scene of honour lies behind.
5.
All this is nothing to a dusty brain.
Rehearse thy duty, fill the glass again.
6.
So, now I taste it's nature, but (alas)
All this is nothing, fill the other glass.
7.
This whets the appetite, me thinks I find
Room for a volly coming yet behind.
8.
Now I could smile, and in a chearful tone
Sing out the praises of my sack alone.
9.
So, stay a little, and anon you'l see
Which is the strongest, or my wits, or thee
My brave Canary. No excess will grow
On either side. Cork-like, my wits they flow
Upon this liquor; and as that ascends,
So thrives my wit, and to the world extends.
10.
Brave Wine I vow, a Cordial to my heart:
Now I commence a Batchelor of Art.
11.
Now I am Master and a Doctor too;
Law, Physick and Divinity I'le shew
All in a volume. Here's the liquor'd Letter;
And being liquor'd it will work the better.
Here's Art refin'd, sweet Musick I have found;
My head strikes up, and all my brains dance round.
Here's Grammars Key, now I have undertook
To speak all tongues without a Construing book.
Logick and Rhetorick here recorded are;
Here's every thing that's pleasant and that's rare.
13.
Oh that Apollo was but here to see
The harmony betwixt my cups and me!
Oh that proud Hercules stood here before me!
We make him kneel, and tremblingly adore me.
Would he not shiver to behold me stand
With a full glass of Nectar in my hand;
{Him} with a hand full and a head full too?
He'd run away, and glad he scaped so.
Most noble drink, how are my thoughts unsnar'd?
Me thinks I am a man of great regard.
Now I conjecture that the world is mine;
I laugh to see adversity repine,
Because I flourish. Both the Turk and Pope
Stand bare to me, both pleading (with small hope)
For a poor pension. O beloved Sack,
Having but thee, I've all, and do not lack.
Here's wealth and riches, and here's beauty bright,
Here's Vertue and her Ladies of delight.
Here is the hand of Midas, (and that's much)
Which turneth all to gold that it doth touch.
Here is the pride of man, this makes small odds
Betwixt our priviledges and the gods.
Then welcom Sack (brave Sack) with all my heart;
With thee I'le live and die, and never part.
Now to the stars I go, and in my pride,
Become a Deity bestellifi'd,
With glittering Nymphs (Diana-like) that be
Set there on purpose to imbellish me.
From Pole to Pole my fancy flies, to clear
All insurrections that are gathered there:
I dispossess bold Boreas, and asswage
The stubborn sallies of his sturdy rage.
Clearing the air of gloomy clouds, and then
I'le kick down Perseus from his seat agen;
And take the sloven that Lucina bears,
And pull him from his Mistress by the ears.
And being mounted on her Chrystal brest,
There will I sip my solace and my rest.
In her sweet bed of spices will I play
From day till night, and then from night till day.
Though Venus frown I care not, for I lack
No heart to daunt a foe, when fill'd with Sack.
There do I triumph in my glorie, for
I need not bow to each competitor.
But laugh to see how sadly they repine,
And cannot climbe unto such fate as mine.
There do I smile to see our Zealots creep
In clods of earth, half 'wake, and half asleep,
Like crawling Tortoises; while I arise
Mounting aloft (like Eagles in the skies:)
Then welcome Sack, the only wings that carry
A soul into Elysium, is Canary.
