Had he but lost his mouth, I grant

He would have felt dismay, sir,

Bless you! he knew what he should want

To drink his bottle a day, sir!

"Cold water makes no lucky hits;

On mysteries the head runs:

Small drink let Kepler[[780]] time his wits

On the regular polyhedrons:

He took to wine, and it changed the chime,

His genius swept away, sir,