Book XI, Epigram 7: Ad Romam

In Sythe-crown'd Saturn's Feasts, wherein
The box of Dice doth reign as King,
All-cover'd Rome thou dost permit
Me now to sport my fluent wit,
So I suppose, for thou did'st smile,
Thence we are not forbid the while.
Ye pallid cares far hence begon,
I'le speak what ere I think upon,
Sans any studied delay,
So fill me out three cups my Boy,
Such as Pithagoras did give
To Nero when he here did live,
But (Dindymus) fill faster too,
For sober I can nothing doe.
When I am drunck up to the height
Full fifteen Poets seize me streight.
Now give me kisses, such as were
Catullus his and if they are
So numerous as his are said to bee,
I will Catullus Sparrow give to thee.