For what we know, this very day
May to eternal night give place.
Let’s snatch from Fate one certain minute,
Perhaps to-morrow Charon’s wherry,
May every mother’s son take in it,
And waft us o’er the Stygian ferry.
In giddy transports without measure
With wine lets drown all melancholy.
No matter if it be a pleasure,
Whether ’tis wisdom call’d, or folly.”