Classic Poem

I.

A Merry Cup, ('Faith,) let us drink,
To be more Wise, the less we Think;
Since Thinking is a silly Thing,
Which brings us Care,
Fear, and Despair;
To leave off Thinking, we shou'd Sing:

II.

We'll Sing, and Drink eternally,
Who thinks too much, too soon will die;
Too much Thought, is too little Sense;
He's sad, who thinks,
He's glad, who drinks,
He, who thinks least, is most a Prince:

III.

Wise Turks , that they may never Think,
Take Opium , and Wise Christians Drink;
Thought drains, and dries the fertile Brain,
But moist'ning it,
Judgment, and Wit,
Will flourish, and spring up again:

IV.

A Merry Cup then, let us take,
That Dreams asleep, nor Cares awake,
May break our Rest, our Peace destroy;
When we drink deep,
Our Sorrows sleep,
Drowning our Care, buoys up our Joy:

V.

The Thinker is the greatest Fool,
He, without Thought, the greatest Soul
Who lets the World jog on, as 'twill,
Knowing that Thought,
Is good for nought,
But Minds to torture, Men to kill:

VI.

Thus all, we call Philosophy,
Is not to think, if Sense, does lie,
In being but insensible,
Of Pain, and Care,
By which Men are
More Wise, as less they know, think, feel.