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How long O immature zealot will you make reproaches
I am always a profligate of the tavern & drunk
You are in sorrow of the rosary, of hypocrisy & of imposture
I am with wine & singers & with my desire

 

Nic 278

Jusques à quand serons-nous esclaves de notre raison de tous les jours? Qu'importe que nous restions cent ans en ce monde, ou que nous n'y demeurions qu'un jour? Va, apporte du vin dans un bol avant que nous soyons transformés en cruches dans l'atelier du potier.

P 595

How long wilt thou revile us, O stupid pietist?
We're topers of the tavern, the winecup still in fist:
With rosaries thou 'rt busy, dissembling and deceit;
With wine and wench and minstrel we're happy as we list.

Th 365

How long, O stupid zealot, wilt thou chide.
That ever wine-flown we in taverns bide?
Thou sadly wear'st thy beads, pretence, deceit;
With sweetheart, song and wine we're satisfied!

Wh 321

How much more wilt thou chide, O raw divine,
For that I drink, and am a libertine?
Thou hast thy weary beads, and saintly show,
Leave me my cheerful sweetheart, and my wine!

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