Sonnet 7. Love, in a humour, played the prodigal

Michael Drayton (1563–1631)

[First printed in 1599 (No. 10), and in all later editions.]

LOVE, in a humour, played the prodigal,

And bade my Senses to a solemn feast;

Yet more to grace the company withal,

Invites my Heart to be the chiefest guest.

No other drink would serve this glutton’s turn,

But precious Tears distilling from mine ey’n;

Which with my Sighs this epicure doth burn,

Quaffing carouses in this costly wine:

Where, in his cups, o’ercome with foul excess,

Straightways he plays a swaggering ruffian’s part,

And at the banquet, in his drunkenness,

Slew his dear friend, my kind and truest Heart.

A gentle warning, friends! thus may you see,

What ’tis to keep a drunkard, company!