Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion:
But to return,--Get very drunk; and when
You wake with headache, you shall see what then.
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(Olivia:) What's a drunken man like, fool?
(Clown:) Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught read more
(Olivia:) What's a drunken man like, fool?
(Clown:) Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught
above heat makes him a fool, the seconds mads him, and a third
drowns him.
He that is drunken . . .
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with read more
He that is drunken . . .
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with his liquor slide into his veins.
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation
Which rises from the cup of mad impiety,
And read more
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation
Which rises from the cup of mad impiety,
And go, get drunk with that divine intoxication
Which is more sober far than all sobriety.
What does drunkenness accomplish? It discloses secrets, it
ratifies hopes, and urges even the unarmed to battle.
[Lat., read more
What does drunkenness accomplish? It discloses secrets, it
ratifies hopes, and urges even the unarmed to battle.
[Lat., Quid non ebrietas designat? Operta recludit;
Spes jubet esse ratas; in praelia trudit inermem.]
Ha! see where the wild-blazing Grog-Shop appears,
As the red waves of wretchedness swell,
How it burns read more
Ha! see where the wild-blazing Grog-Shop appears,
As the red waves of wretchedness swell,
How it burns on the edge of tempestuous years
The horrible Light-House of Hell!
Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.
Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day.
I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
read more
I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground,
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should read more
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in
their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should with
joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into
beasts!
Touch the goblet no more!
It will make thy heart sore
To its very core!
Touch the goblet no more!
It will make thy heart sore
To its very core!
