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 23. Love, Banish'd Heav'n
2. Sonnet 36. Thou Purblind Boy
3. Sonnet 45. Muses, which Sadly Sit about My Chair
4. Sonnet 16. Mongst all the Creatures in this Spacious Round
5. Sonnet 42. Some Men there Be which like My Method Well

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