He’s but a short remove from being mad,
Who at a time of jubilee is sad,
And, like a griping usurer, does spare
His money to be squander’d by his heir;
Flutter’d away in liveries and in coaches,
And washy sorts of feminine debauches. 
As for my part, whate’er the world may think,
I’ll bid adieu to gravity, and drink;
And, though I can’t put off a woful mien,
Will be all mirth and cheerfulness within: 
As, in despight of a censorious race,
I most incontinently suck my face. 
What mighty projects does not he design,
Whose stomach flows, and brain turns round with wine? 
Wine, powerful wine, can thaw the frozen cit,
And fashion him to humour and to wit;
Makes even Somers to disclose his art
By racking every secret from his heart,
As he flings off the statesman’s sly disguise,
To name the cuckold’s wife with whom he lies.[5]
Ev’n Sarum, when he quaffs it’stead of tea,
Fancies himself in Canterbury’s see,
And S****, when he carousing reels,
Imagines that he has regain’d the seals: 
W****, by virtue of his juice, can fight,
And Stanhope of commissioners make light. 
Wine gives Lord Wingham aptitude of parts,
And swells him with his family’s deserts: 
Whom can it not make eloquent of speech;
Whom in extremest poverty not rich? 
Since, by the means of the prevailing grape,
Th***n can Lechmere’s warmth not only ape,
But, half seas o’er, by its inspiring bounties,
Can qualify himself in several counties. 
What I have promised, thou may’st rest assured
Shall faithfully and gladly be procured. 
Nay, I’m already better than my word,
New plates and knives adorn the jovial board: 
And, lest you at their sight shouldst make wry faces
The girl has scour’d the pots, and wash’d the glasses
Ta’en care so excellently well to clean ’em,
That thou may’st see thine own dear picture in ’em. 
  Moreover, due provision has been made,
That conversation may not be betray’d;
I have no company but what is proper
To sit with the most flagrant Whig at supper. 
There’s not a man among them but must please,
Since they’re as like each other as are pease. 
Toland and Hare have jointly sent me word
They’ll come; and Kennet thinks to make a third,
Provided he’s no other invitation
From men of greater quality and station. 
Room will for Oldmixon and J—­s be left: 
But their discourses smell so much of theft,
There would be no abiding in the room,
Should two such ignorant pretenders come. 
However, by this trusty bearer write,
If I should any other scabs invite;
Though, if I may my serious judgment give,
I’m wholly for King Charles’s number five: 
That was the stint in which that monarch fix’d,
Who would not be with noisiness perplex’d: 
And that, if thou’lt agree to think it best,
Shall be our tale of heads, without one other guest. 
  I’ve nothing more, now this is said,