Such perfect bliss, fair Chloris, we
    In our enjoyment prove:
'Tis pity restless jealousy
    Should mingle with our love.

Let us, since wit has taught us how,
    Raise pleasure to the top:
You rival bottle must allow,
    I'll suffer rival fop.

Think not in this that I design
    A treason 'gainst love's charms,
When following the god of wine
    I leave my Chloris' arms:

Since you have that for all your haste,
    At which I'll ne'er repine,
Will take its liquor off as fast
    As I can take off mine.

There's not a brisk insipid spark
    That flutters in the town,
But with your wanton eyes you mark
    Him out to be your own.

Nor do you think it worth your care
    How empty and how dull
The heads of your admirers are,
    So that their bags be full.

All this you freely may confess,
    Yett we not  disagree:
For did you love you pleasures less,
    You were not fitt  for mee.

Whilst I my passion  to persue,
    Am  whole nights  taking in
The lusty juice of grapes, take you
    The juice of lusty Men.