"Who can describe the Pleasures, which attend A fair kind She, a Bottle, and a Friend? / How they divide the Empire of our Souls, / While each with grateful Tyranny controuls"
— Ames, Richard (bap. 1664?, d. 1692)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. Taylor
Date
1693
Metaphor
"Who can describe the Pleasures, which attend
A fair kind She, a Bottle, and a Friend? / How they divide the Empire of our Souls, / While each with grateful Tyranny controuls"
Metaphor in Context
But tush--let all such hideous Thoughts begon,
I've other things to think upon;
Let me contrive the means, whereby I may
With greatest Satisfaction and Delight,
Lengthen the winged hours of welcome Day,
And while away, th'as welcome Ones of Night.
Who can describe the Pleasures, which attend
A fair kind She, a Bottle, and a Friend?
How they divide the Empire of our Souls,
While each with grateful Tyranny controuls:
When I've all day in Pleasure's Circle run,
(Pleasures which only to the Wits are known,)
At Night in Sylvia's, or in Chloe's Arms,
Am lockt secure from any Mortal harms.
While Plodding Sots all day on measures think,
(If they to thinking can pretend)
To save the Trash they have no heart to spend.
With Women, Wits, and Soul-inspiring Drink.
I push the tedious Minutes on;
And when the present Day is gone,
My Mind a Stranger both to Care and Sorrow,
Longs for the Joys of the Approaching Morrow.
(pp. 3-4, ll. 48-69)
I've other things to think upon;
Let me contrive the means, whereby I may
With greatest Satisfaction and Delight,
Lengthen the winged hours of welcome Day,
And while away, th'as welcome Ones of Night.
Who can describe the Pleasures, which attend
A fair kind She, a Bottle, and a Friend?
How they divide the Empire of our Souls,
While each with grateful Tyranny controuls:
When I've all day in Pleasure's Circle run,
(Pleasures which only to the Wits are known,)
At Night in Sylvia's, or in Chloe's Arms,
Am lockt secure from any Mortal harms.
While Plodding Sots all day on measures think,
(If they to thinking can pretend)
To save the Trash they have no heart to spend.
With Women, Wits, and Soul-inspiring Drink.
I push the tedious Minutes on;
And when the present Day is gone,
My Mind a Stranger both to Care and Sorrow,
Longs for the Joys of the Approaching Morrow.
(pp. 3-4, ll. 48-69)
Categories
Provenance
Searching "empire" and "soul" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Only one entry in ESTC.
See Richard Ames, The Rake: or, The Libertine's Religion. A Poem. (London: Printed for R. Taylor, 1693). <Link to EEBO>
See Richard Ames, The Rake: or, The Libertine's Religion. A Poem. (London: Printed for R. Taylor, 1693). <Link to EEBO>
Date of Entry
08/11/2004
Date of Review
03/23/2009
