Classic Poem

To Leucone inviting to cherish pleasure and omitt care for the future

Wouldst thou informed be,
(My Leucone) what end the Gods decree
In life assigned hath, to Thee or me?

Break not thy braynes, to trye
The Babilonian Astrology,
The better to submit to Desteny:

Whither more winters shall
Pass ore thy head, or this, prove last of all,
Thou wouldst desier to know, before it fall:

Take to thee wine that's prest,
Straynd wine, which evermore is counted best,
And leav ofe care th'disquieter of rest:

Then, with thy Lifes short thred
Cut ofe those future hopes wher with 'twas fed,
For, whilst we speak, our Envious age is fled:

Soe, the Time present Use
And let not whats to come Thee more abuse,
For All must die at Last, and cannot chuse.