Then sleeps again, and, as the liquors pass,
Wakes at the friendly Jog, and takes his Glass;
Alike to him who stands, or reels, or moves;
The elbow chair, good wine and Sleep he loves;
Nor cares of state disturb his easy head,
By grosser fumes and calmer follies fed;
Nor thoughts, of when, or where, or how to come,
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The Canvass general, or the general Doom;
Extremes ne'er reach'd one passion of his Soul;