He drinks the best of Rhenish wine—
I would the Pope’s gay lot were mine.
But then, all happy’s not his life;
He has not maid nor blooming wife,
Nor child has he to raise his hope—
I would not wish to be the Pope.
The Sultan better pleases me;
His is a life of jollity;
His wives are many as his will—
I would the Sultan’s throne then fill.