Whene'er I bib the wine down,
Asleepe drop all my cares.
A fig for fret,
A fig for sweat,
A fig care I for cares.
Sith death must come, though I say nay,
Why grieve my life's days with all affaires?
Come, bib we then the wine down
Of Bacchus faire to see;
For alway while we bibbing be,
Asleepe drop all our cares.
- Anacreonta xxv, translated for Duke Corsus's use in The Worm Ouroboros by E R Eddison.
PUBLICK HEALTHE ADVERTIZEMENT! A Doctor of Physick Saieth: This evill Counsell schol bring yowe naught but swift Frenzie, long sicknesse, and soddeyne DEATH with small Lamentation to yr Neighbors. Nor thinke to escape the Rioters' Penaltie through vild Sotte-Weed nor yet those mad Reefers! Yt is scarce endurable, livable, nother Sosteynable, O Prince, that sich Poysones be nott Taxed and Tayled to the arse-bone, for the better sustenaunce of Mee and my Leechis!