The sun, and who dare him disgrace
With drink, that keeps his steady pace,
Baits at the sea, and keeps good hours.
The moon and stars, and mighty powers,
Drink not, but spill that on the floor
The sun drew up the day before,
And charitable dews bestow
On herbs that die for thirst below.
Then drink no more, then let that die
That would the drunkard kill, for why