MUST then my failings from the shaft
  Of anger ne’er escape?
And dost thou storm because I've quaffed
  The water of the grape?

That I can thus from wine be driven,
  Thou surely ne’er canst think—
Another reason thou hast given
  Why I resolve to drink:

’Twas sweet the flowing cup to seize,
  ’Tis sweet thy rage to see;
And, first, I drink myself to please,
  And, next—to anger thee!