Shall I, to please another wine-sprung minde, Lose all mine own? God hath giv'n me a measure Short of His can and body; must I find A pain in that, wherein he finds a pleasure?

He that is drunken . . . Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill Did with his liquor slide into his veins.

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return,--Get very drunk; and when You wake with headache, you shall see what then.

(Olivia:) What's a drunken man like, fool? (Clown:) Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught above heat makes him a fool, the seconds mads him, and a third drowns him.

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking; So full of valor that they smote the air For breathing in their faces, beat the ground, For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project.

I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblest, and the ingredient is a devil.