Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 7. Love in a Humor Play'd the Prodigal

Love in a humor play'd 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 eyne,
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.

1. Sonnet 24. I Hear Some Say
2. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
3. Sonnet 37. Dear, why should You Command Me to My Rest
4. An Ode Written in the Peak
5. Sonnet 57. You Best Discern'd of my Mind's Inward Eyes

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