Those that merely talk and never think, That live in the wild anarchy of drink. - Ben Jonson

Calumnies are answered best with silence.

Mischiefs feed / Like beasts, till they be fat, and then they bleed.

A Song To Celia

Drink to me, only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine:
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be
But thou thereon didst only breath
And sent’st it back to me:
Since, when it grows and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee.