The wheel of heaven many times has scattered harvest
To cherish useless grief has no profit
Fill the wine cup & place it quickly in my hand
That I may drink again for all that must be will be.


P 387

Idle repining and grieving, marry, what profit they?
Many like us the heaven bringeth and taketh away:
Fill me the winecup and give it in hand, so drink I may;
Quick, for of mortal bodies wine is the life and stay.

Th 651

What profit can there be in grieving vain?
Many like us hath Heaven seized and slain;
The cup fill ! set it in my hand to drink!
Quickly, for it doth everything sustain!

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