WHile the love is thinking,
With my friend I’ll be drinking,
And with vigour pursue my delight,
While the fool is designing
His fatal confining,
With Bacchus I’ll spend the whole night.
With the God I’ll be jolly,
Without madness and folly,
Fickle woman to marry implore;
Leave my bottle and friend,
For so foolish an end!
When I do, may I never drink more.