But thou, when flowing cups in triumph ride,1
And the lov'd nymph is seated by thy side,
Invoke the god and all the mighty powers,
That wine may not defraud thy genial hours.
Then in ambiguous words thy suit prefer,
Which she may know were all address'd to her.
In liquid purple letters write her name,2
Which she may read, and reading find the flame.
Then may your eyes confess your mutual fires,
(For eyes have tongues, and glances tell desires ;)
Whene'er she drinks, be first to take the cup;
And where she laid her lips, the blessing sup.
When she to carving does her hand advance,
Put out thy own, and touch it as by chance.
Thy service e'en the husband must attend;3
(A husband is a most convenient friend.)
Seat the fool cuckold in the highest place,
And with thy garland his dull temples grace'
Whether below or equal in degree,
Let him be lord of all the company,
And what he says be seconded by thee.
Tis common to deceive thro' friendship's name,
But common though it be, 'tis still to blame;
Thus factors frequently their trust betray,
And to themselves their masters' gains convey.
Drink to a certain pitch, and then give o'er;
Thy tongue and feet may stumble, drinking more.
Of drunken quarrels in her sight beware;
Pot valour only serves to fright the fair.
Eurytion justly fell, by wine oppress't,4
For his rude riot at a wedding-feast.
Sing, if you have a voice; and shew your parts
In dancing, if endu'd with dancing arts.
Do anything within your power to please;
Nay, e'en affect a seeming drunkenness;
Clip every word; and if by chance you speak
Too home, or if too broad a jest you break,
In your excuse the company will join,
And lay the fault upon the force of wine.
True drunkenness is subject to offend,
But when 'tis feign'd 'tis oft a lover's friend:
Then safely you may praise her beauteous face,
And call him happy who is in her grace;
Her husband thinks himself the man design'd,
But curse the cuckold in your secret mind.
When all are risen and prepar'd to go,
Mix with the crowd and tread upon her toe;
This is the proper time to make thy court,
For now she's in the vein, and fit for sport.
Lay bashfulness, that rustic virtue, by;5
To manly confidence thy thoughts apply.
On fortune's foretop timely fix thy hold;
Now speak and speed. for Venus loves the bold.
No rules of rhetoric here I need afford;6
Only begin, and trust the following word:
It will be witty of its own accord.
Act well the lover; let thy speech abound
In dying words, that represent thy wound;
Distrust not her belief; she will be mov'd:
All women think they merit to be lov'd.
