Drink is the feast of reason and the flow of soul.
Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear; 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.
Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.
Most women have no characters at all.