Virgin Wine Repleat.
Wine whets the Wit, improves its Native Force,
And gives a pleasant Flavour to Discourse,
By making all our Spirits Deboniar,
Throws of the Lees, the Sedement of Care.
But as the greatest Blessing Heaven lends
May be debauch'd, and serve ignoble Ends;
So, but too oft, the Grapes refreshing Juice,
Does many mischievous Effects produce,
My House, shou'd no such rude Disorders know,
As from high Drinking consequently flow,
Nor wou'd I use what was so kindly giv'n,
To the Dishonour of Indulgent Heav'n.
If any Neighbour came he shou'd be free, }
Us'd with Respect, and not uneasy be, }
In my Retreat, or to himself or me. }
What Freedom, Prudence, and Right Reason give,
All Men may with impunity receive;
But the least swerving from their Rules too much,
For what's forbiden us, 'tis Death to touch.
That Life might be more comfortable yet,
And all my Joys refin'd, sincere and great,
I'd chuse too Friends, whose Company wou'd be
A great Advance to my Felicity.
Well born, of Humours suited to my own
Discreet and Men as well as Books have known.
Brave, Gen'rous, Witty, and exactly free
From loose Behaviour, or Formality.
Airy and Prudent, Merry, but not Light,
Quick in discerning, and in Judging, Right;
Secret they shou'd, be faithful to their Trust,
In Reasoning Cool, Strong, Temperate and just.
Obliging, Open, without Huffing, Brave;
Brisk in gay talking, and in sober Grave.
Close in dispute, but not tenacious, try'd
By solid Reason, and let that decide;
Not prone to Lust, Revenge, or envious Hate;
Nor busy Medlers with Intrigues of State.
Strangers to Slander, and sworn Foes to spight,
Not Quarrelsom, but Stout enough to Fight:
Loyal and Pious, Friends to _Caesar_ true
As dying Martyrs to their Maker too.
In their Society I cou'd not miss,
A permanent, sincere, substaintial Bliss.

Wou'd bounteous Heaven once more indulge, I'd chuse,
(For, who wou'd so much satisfaction lose,
As Witty Nymphs in Conversation give)
Near some obliging modest-fair to live;
For there's that sweetness in a female Mind,
Which in a Man's we cannot find;
That by a secret, but a pow'rful Art, }
Winds up the Spring of Life, and do's impart }
Fresh Vital Heat to the transported Heart, }
I'd have her Reason, and her Passions sway,
Easy in Company, in private Gay.
Coy to a Fop, to the deserving free,
Still Constant to her self, and Just to me.
A soul she shou'd have for great Actions fit,
Prude