Ad mare cum veni, generosum et lene requiro,
Quod curas abigat, quod cum spe divite manet.
In venas, animumque meum, quod verba ministret.
Quod me Lucanoe juvenem commendet amicæ.
For that they have assign'd the Poets to this Deity, I believe by it they design'd to intimate this, that Wine both stirs up Wit and administers Eloquence; which two Things are very fit for Poets. Whence it comes to pass, that your Water Drinkers make poor Verses. For Bacchus is of a fiery Constitution naturally, but he is made more temperate, being united with the Nymphs. Have you been answer'd to your Satisfaction?
Ch. I never heard any Thing more to the Purpose from a Poet. You deserve to drink out of a Cup set with Jewels. Boy, take away this Dish, and set on another.
Au. You have got a very clownish Boy.
Ch. He is the unluckiest Knave in the World.
Au. Why don't you teach him better Manners?
Ch. He is too old to learn. It is a hard matter to mend the Manners of an old Sinner. An old Dog won't be easily brought to wear the Collar. He's well enough for me. Like Master like Man.
* * * * *
If I knew what you lik'd, I would help you.
Au. I would cut you a Slice, if I knew what would please you. I would help you, if I knew your Palate. I would help you, if I knew what you lik'd best. If I knew the Disposition of your Palate, I would be your Carver. Indeed my Palate is like my Judgment.