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XLIII
OUT OF LYCOPHRON

What shall become of Man so wise,
When he dies?
None can tell
Whither he goes to Heaven or Hell;
Or after a few Moments dear,
He disappear,
And at last,
Perish entirely like a Beast:
But Women, Wine and Mirth we know,
Are all the Joys he has below:
Let us then ply those Joys we have,
'Tis vain to think beyond the Grave;
Out of our reach the Gods have laid
Of Time to come th' Event,
And laugh to see the Fools afraid,
Of what the Knaves invent.