A PREPARATIVE to study: OR, THE virtue OF SACK.  
LONDON, Printed Anno Dom. 1641.   

A PREPARATIVE to Study: OR, THE virtue OF sack.  
FEtch me Ben. johnson's Scull, and fill't with sack,  
Rich as the same he drank, when the whole pack  
Of jolly Sisters pledged, and did agree,  
It was no sin to be as drunk as he;  
If there be any weakness in the wine,  
there's virtue in the Cup to make't divine;  
This muddy drench of Ale does taste too much  
Of Earth, the Malt retains a scurvy touch  
Of the dull hind that sowed it, and I fear  
There's heresy in hops; give Calvyn beer,  
And his precise Disciple, such as think  
There's Powder Treason in all Spanish drink,  
Call Sack an idol, we will kiss the cup,  
For fear their Conventicle be blown up  
With superstition; aw●y with brewhouse alms,  
Whose best mirth is six-shilling beer and psalms.  
Let me rejoice in sprightly Sack that can  
Create a brain even in an empty Pan,  
Canary! it is thou that dost inspire  
And actuate the soul with heavenly fire.  
Thou that sublim'st the Genius-making wit  
Scorn earth, and such as love or live by it,  
Thou mak'st us Lords of Regions large and fair,  
Whilst our conceits build Castles in the air.  
Since fire, earth, air, thus thy inferiors be,  
Henceforth I'll know no Element but thee;  
Thou precious elixir of all Grapes  
Welcome, by thee our Muse begins her 'scapes;  
I would not leave thee Sack to be with Jove,  
His Nectar is but feigned, but I do prove  
Thy more essential worth: I am (me thinks)  
In the Exchequer now, hark how it chinks,  
And do esteem my venerable self  
As brave a fellow as if all that pelf  
Were sure mine own, and I have thought a way  
Already how to spend it, I would pay  
No debts, but fairly empty every trunk  
And change the Gold for Sack to keep me drunk,  
And so by consequence till rich Spain's wine  
Being in my crown, the Indies too were mine,  
And when my brains are once afloat (Heaven bless us)  
I think myself a better man than Croesus,  
And now I do conceit myself a Judge,  
And coughing, laugh, to see my clients trudge  
After my lordship's Coach unto the Hall  
For Justice, and am full of Law withal,  
And do become the Bench as well as he  
That fled of late for want of honesty,  
But I'll be Judge no longer, though in jest,  
For fear I should be talked with like the rest,  
When I am sober: who can choose but think  
Me wise, that am so wary in my drink?  
Oh, admirable Sack! here's dainty sport,  
I am come back from Westminster to Court,  
And am grown young again, my phthisic now  
Hath left me, and my Judges graver brow  
Is smoothed, and I turned amorous as May,  
When she invites young Lovers forth to play  
Upon her flowery bosom: I could win  
A vestal now, or tempt a Saint to sin.  
Oh, for a score of Queens! you'd laugh to see  
How they would strive, which first should ravish me.  
Three Goddesses were nothing: Sack has tipped  
My tongue with charms like those which Paris sipped  
From Venus when she taught him how to kiss  
Fair Helen, and invite a farther bliss,  
Mine is canary-rhetoric, that alone  
Would turn Diana to a burning stone,  
Stone with amazement burning with love's fire,  
Hard to the touch, but short in her desire,  
Inestimable Sack! thou mak'st us rich,  
Wise, amorous, any thing; I have an itch  
To tother Cup, and that perchance will make  
Me valiant too, and quarrel for thy sake:  
If I be once inflamed against thy Foes  
That would preach down thy worth in small-beer-prose,  
I shall do Miracles as bad or worse,  
As he that gave the King an hundred horse:  
I'm in the North already; Lasley's dead,  
He that would rise, carry the King his head,  
And tell him (if he ask, who killed the Scot)  
I knocked his brains out with a pottle pot.  
Out ye Rebellious Vipers; I'm come back  
From thence again, because there's no good Sack,  
Tother odd Cup, and I shall be prepared  
To snatch at stars, and pluck down a reward  
With mine own hands, from Jove upon their backs  
That are, or Charles his Enemies or Sacks;  
Let it be full, if I do chance to spill  
Over my study by the way, I will,  
Dipping in this diviner ink my pen,  
Write myself sober, and fall too't again.  
FINIS.