The following verse is remarkable to me in its sheer hedonism.

Coronemus nos Rosis antequam marcescant

by Thomas Jordan. 1612?–1685

LET us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice,
With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice!
The changeable world to our joy is unjust,
All treasure 's uncertain,
Then down with your dust!
In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings, and pence,
For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence.

We'll sport and be free with Moll, Betty, and Dolly,
Have oysters and lobsters to cure melancholy:
Fish-dinners will make a man spring like a flea,
Dame Venus, love's lady,
Was born of the sea;
With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense,
For we shall be past it a hundred years hence.

Your most beautiful bride who with garlands is
crown'd
And kills with each glance as she treads on the
ground,
Whose lightness and brightness doth shine in such
splendour
That none but the stars
Are thought fit to attend her,
Though now she be pleasant and sweet to the sense,
Will be damnable mouldy a hundred years hence.

Then why should we turmoil in cares and in fears,
Turn all our tranquill'ty to sighs and to tears?
Let 's eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt
us,
'Tis certain, Post mortem
Nulla voluptas.
For health, wealth and beauty, wit, learning and
sense,
Must all come to nothing a hundred years hence.

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