I'd have a little Vault, but always stor'd
With the best Wines, each Vintage could afford.
Wine whets the Wit, improves its Native Force,
And gives a pleasant Flavour to Discourse:
By making all our Spirits Debonair,
Throws off the Lees, the Sediment of Care.
But as the greatest Blessing Heaven lends,
May be Debauch'd, and serve Ignoble Ends:
So, but too oft, the Grapes refreshing Juice
Does many Mischievous Effects produce,
My House should no such rude Disorders know,
As from high Drinking consequently flow.
Nor would I use what was so kindly giv'n,
To the Dishonour of indulgent Heaven.
If any Neighbour came, he should be free,
Us'd with Respect, and not uneasy be,
In my Retreat, or to himself or me.
What Freedom; Prudence, and right Reason give,
All Men may with Impunity receive:
But the least swerving from their Rule's too much;
For what's forbidden us, 'tis Death to touch.