Classic Poem

I.

Why Beast, shou'd you call me, because I drink on?
Since 'tis but by that sure, I prove my self none;
He's the Beast, I shou'd think,
Who does seldomest drink,
And Human Goodfellowship oftenest shun:

II.

If Laughter and Talk, be the Signs of a Man,
In either, good Wine does Good-Fellows maintain;
Then the Man who drinks most,
Of most Manhood can boast;
And he's the dull Beast, who from Wine does refrain:

III.

He Reason has, who Drinks till Reason be gone,
Since Thought brings us Sorrow, which Drinking will drown;
To do Reason, we Drink,
More to Talk, less to Think;
Since Wine gives those Mirth, Wit, who Sober have none.

IV.

Wine makes him, who talks well, the more to talk on,
The Shallow-Brain's Tattle, more soon to have done;
Wine, all Sad Men delights,
Sets all Quarrels to rights,
Then he's most a Brute-Beast, who drinks most alone:

V.

Wine makes Man a sociable Creature at least,
Who, were't not for Company, were a Dumb Beast;
Men are, Dogs, Sheep, or Swine,
Who can Sup, or can Dine,
Of Wine, or Good-fellowship, yet have no Taste:

VI.

He's sociable, honest, and has a good Soul,
Who fails not his Meeting, and fills up his Bowl;
But the Man ought to pass,
For a Horse, Sheep, or Ass,
Who, Love, Wit, or Friendship, with Water, wou'd cool:

VII.

Dull Temperance is the true Mark of a Beast,
Humanity, but by good Drinking's increas'd.
For, by Wine, Reason's done,
When the Wine leaves us none;
He's most a Beast then, who thinks most, and drinks least.