Would’st thou hit a lofty strain,
With this Liquor warm thy brain,
And thou Swain shalt sing as sweet as Sidney;
Or would’st thou laugh and be fat,
Ther’s not any like to that
To make Jack Sprat a man of kidney.
[It] Is the soul of mirth
To poor Mortals upon Earth;
It would make a coward bold as Hector,
Nay I wager durst a Peece,