From the Park, and the Play,
And Whitehall come away,
To the Punch-bowl, by far more inviting;
To the Fopps, and the Beauxs [sic],
Leave those dull empty shows,
And see here, what is truly delighting.
The half Globe 'tis in figure,
And wou'd itt were bigger;
Yett here's the whole Universe floating,
Here's Titles, and Places,
Rich lands, and fair faces,
And all that is worhty our doating.
'Twas a World, like to this,
The hott Gracian did misse.
Of whom History's keep such a pother,
To the bottom he sunk,
And when one he had drunk
Grew mauldin, and wept for another.
"Verses on a Punch-Bowl"
Capacious goblet! stor'd with all delight,
Sweet to the Tast, and pleasing to the Sight;
Where Nutmegs, Lemons, and the Jolly Toast,
Scatter'd like wrecks o'th merry Ocean float:
Thy generous Juice makes all Men know,
The little worth of things below:
Can the Miser's heart unfold,
And set the Wretch above his Gold:
None knows the pleasure till he tries,
That in the silent bottom lies:
Let's seach the deep then where it is
Nor longer now delay our bliss;
Let's drown our Sorrow, drown our Grief,
And snatch an hour of real life.
There are several poems celebrating drinking in 1701 Gilden.