Besides, it wounds you sore to recollect 205
What follies in your loose unguarded hour
Escap’d. By one irrevocable word,
Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend.
Or in the rage of wine your hasty hand
Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave. 210
Add that your means, your health, your parts decay;
Your friends avoid you; brutishly transform’d
They hardly know you; or if one remains
To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven.