Unto a Feast I will invite thee,
Where various dishes shall delight thee;
The Steeming vapours drawn up hot
From Earth, that’s Nature’s porridge-pot
Shall be our broth; We’l drink my dear
The thinner air for our small beer;
And if thou lik’st it not I’le call aloud
And make our Butler broach a cloud.
Of paler Planets for thy sake
White pots, and trembling custards make