Vini Energia

THE husbandman, laid sometime to his vine,
To make it beare, the donge of sundry beastes,
Whose virtue since, hath quite possest the wine,
As may appeare, at many drunken feastes:
One Lion-like, doth quarrell with his host,
Stares, sweares, breakes windowes, or behacks the post.

Ape-like you see, the second merry still,
Or whot with lust, he never thinkes of sleepe:
Another swinish, feeles his stomach ill:
The fourth is soft, and simple as the sheepe:
A Romane sage, did sometime thus expresse,
In briefe th' effectes, of loathsome Drunkenes.