And let young Hopeful have his fill—
His rising spirit why control?
"I loves," cries Snip, "to see him swill—
It makes the boy so very droll:
"Then seize the jug, and do not spare!
But be awake, thou man of stitches,
Or, by the powers, your hopeful Heir
Will spill the liqour on your breeches."
The rapid course of time we know;
Why waste it then in dry reflection?