Horace I, 11

Seek not, Lucome, to know how long you're going to live yet--
What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they're going to give
yet;
For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry--
Some will hang on for many a day and some die in a hurry,
The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem
Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am;
And while we sport, I'll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye--
To-morrow, when the headache comes--well, then I'll satirize ye!