Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny. It hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne
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Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny. It hath been
Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne
And fall of many kings.

I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a
drunkard! Had I as read more

I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a
drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would
stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and
presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblest,
and the ingredient is a devil.

All learned, and all drunk!

All learned, and all drunk!

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.

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, read more

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.

Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness.
[Lat., Nihil aliud est ebrietas quam voluntaria insania.]

Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness.
[Lat., Nihil aliud est ebrietas quam voluntaria insania.]

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!

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
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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.