1 Gay Bacchus liking Estcourt's[1] wine,
A noble meal bespoke us;
And for the guests that were to dine,
Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.

2 The god near Cupid drew his chair,
Near Comus, Jocus placed;
For wine makes Love forget its care,
And Mirth exalts a feast.

3 The more to please the sprightly god,
Each sweet engaging Grace
Put on some clothes to come abroad,
And took a waiter's place.

4 Then Cupid named at every glass
A lady of the sky;
While Bacchus swore he'd drink the lass,
And did it bumper-high.

5 Fat Comus toss'd his brimmers o'er,
And always got the most;
Jocus took care to fill him more,
Whene'er he miss'd the toast.

6 They call'd, and drank at every touch;
He fill'd, and drank again;
And if the gods can take too much,
'Tis said they did so then.