Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Over The Door Of The Of The Apollo Tavern.
OVER THE DOOR OF THEAPOLLO TAVERNV
BY BEN JONSGN . w _ ¦ To the oracle of Apollo !
Here he speaks out of his pottle , Or the tripos , his tower bottle ; All his answers are divine , . Truth itself doth flow in wine .
" Hang xip all the poor hoprdrinkers ! " Cries old Sym , the king of skinkers ; u He the half of life abuses , That sits watering with Those dull girls no good can iheah us , Wine it is the milk And the poet ' s horse accounted ;
Ply ity and you all are mounted . " 'Tis the true Phoebian liquor , Cheers the brains , makes wit the quicker , Pays all debts , cures all diseases , And at once three senses pleases . Welcome , all that lead or follow , To the oracle of Apollo ]!!
ADAM POSED . Could our first father at his toilsome plough , Thorns in his path and labour on his brow , Clothed only in a rude , unpolished skin , Could he a vain , fantastic nymph have seen , In all her airs , in all her antic graces ,
Her various fashions , and more various faces : How had it pos'd that skill which late assigh'd Just appellations to each several kind , A right idea of the sight to frame , / To guess from what new element she came , To hit the wavering form , or give the thing a name . * * Qy . ;—Had the bard a foreshadowing of crinoline ?—Printer ' s Devil ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Over The Door Of The Of The Apollo Tavern.
OVER THE DOOR OF THEAPOLLO TAVERNV
BY BEN JONSGN . w _ ¦ To the oracle of Apollo !
Here he speaks out of his pottle , Or the tripos , his tower bottle ; All his answers are divine , . Truth itself doth flow in wine .
" Hang xip all the poor hoprdrinkers ! " Cries old Sym , the king of skinkers ; u He the half of life abuses , That sits watering with Those dull girls no good can iheah us , Wine it is the milk And the poet ' s horse accounted ;
Ply ity and you all are mounted . " 'Tis the true Phoebian liquor , Cheers the brains , makes wit the quicker , Pays all debts , cures all diseases , And at once three senses pleases . Welcome , all that lead or follow , To the oracle of Apollo ]!!
ADAM POSED . Could our first father at his toilsome plough , Thorns in his path and labour on his brow , Clothed only in a rude , unpolished skin , Could he a vain , fantastic nymph have seen , In all her airs , in all her antic graces ,
Her various fashions , and more various faces : How had it pos'd that skill which late assigh'd Just appellations to each several kind , A right idea of the sight to frame , / To guess from what new element she came , To hit the wavering form , or give the thing a name . * * Qy . ;—Had the bard a foreshadowing of crinoline ?—Printer ' s Devil ,