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- LET us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice,
- With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice!
- The changeable world to our joy is unjust,
- All treasure's uncertain,
- Then down with your dust!
- In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings, and pence,
- For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence.
- We'll sport and be free with Moll, Betty, and Dolly,
- Have oysters and lobsters to cure melancholy:
- Fish-dinners will make a lass spring like a flea,
- Dame Venus, love's lady,
- Was born of the sea;
- With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense,
- For we shall be past it a hundred years hence.
- Your most beautiful bride who with garlands is crown'd
- And kills with each glance as she treads on the ground,
- Whose lightness and brightness doth shine in such splendour
- That none but the stars
- Are thought fit to attend her,
- Though now she be pleasant and sweet to the sense,
- Will be damnable mouldy a hundred years hence.
- Then why should we turmoil in cares and in fears,
- Turn all our tranquill'ty to sighs and to tears?
- Let's eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt us,
- 'Tis certain, Post mortem
- Nulla voluptas.
- For health, wealth and beauty, wit, learning and sense,
- Must all come to nothing a hundred years hence.
- Thomas Jordan
Poets' Corner .
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