Fust. Who knew him, perchance may know this—
He dying left much gold and jewels no few:
Whom these help to court with, but seldom shall miss
The love of a leman: true witchcraft, I wis!
First Friend. Dost flout me? 'T is said, in debauchery's guild
Admitted prime guttler and guzzler—O swine!—
To honor thy headship, those tosspots so swilled
That out of their table there sprouted a vine
Whence each claimed a cluster, awaiting thy sign