Thou swear’st thou hast but newly dined;
That eating late does over-load
The stomach and the mind.
Then thou wilt drink ’till every star
Be swallowed by the rising sun;
Such charms hath wine we pay not for,
And mirth at others’ charge begun.
Who shuns his club, yet flies to every treat,
Does not a supper, but a reck’ning hate.
On Jealousy. BY A LADY.