I lie and dream of your full Mermaid wine:
Oh, we have water mixt with claret lees,
Drink apt to bring in drier heresies
Than here, good only for the sonnet’s strain,
With fustian metaphors to stuff the brain:—
Think with one draught a man’s invention fades,
Two cups had quite spoil’d Homer’s Iliads.
’Tis liquor that will find out Sutclift’s wit,
Like where he will, and make him write worse yet:
Fill’d with such moisture, in most grievous qualms[[30]]