Wine lets no lover unrewarded go.

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

The villain's censure is extorted praise.

Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.

Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?

Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.

Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.