For if thy virtue's circle not confine
20And guard thee from the Furies rais'd by wine,
'Tis ten to one this dancing spirit may
A Devil prove to bear thy wits away;
And make thy glowing nose a map of Hell
Where Bacchus' purple fumes like meteors dwell.
Now think not these sage morals thee invite
To prove Carthusian or strict Rechabite;
Let fool's be mad, wise people may be free,
Though not to license turn their liberty.