A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles today tomorrow will be a dying.
Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
Out did the meate, out did the frolick wine.
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
I'll write, because I'll give - You critics means to live; For should I not supply - The cause, the effect would die