Classic Poem

1

Such perfect Blisse faire Chloris, wee
In our Enjoyment prove
'Tis pitty restless Jealiousy
Should Mingle with our Love.

2

Lett us (since witt has taught us how)
Raise pleasure to the Topp
You Rivall Bottle must allow
I'le suffer Rivall Fopp.

3

Thinke not in this, that I designe
A Treason 'gainst Loves Charmes
When following the God of Wine
I Leave my Chloris armes.

4

Since you have that for all your hast
Att which I'le ne're repine
Will take his Likour of as fast
As I can take of mine.

5

There's not A brisk insipid Sparke
That Flutters in the Towne
But with your wanton eyes, you marke
Him out to be your owne.

6

Nor doe you thinke it worth your care
How empty and how dull
The heads of your Admirers are
Soe that their Codds be full.

7

All this you freely may Confesse
Yett wee nere disagree
For did you love your pleasure lesse
You were noe Match for mee.

8

Whilst I my pleasure to pursue
Whole nights am takeing in,
The Lusty Juice of Grapes, take you
The Juice of Lusty Men.