Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize,
     Now to the maid who has none, sir;
Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
     And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
               Let the toast pass,
               Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow;
     Now to her that's as brown as a berry;
Here's to the wife with a face full of woe,
     And now to the damsel that's merry.
               Let the toast pass,
               Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim,
     Young or ancient, I care not a feather;
So fill the pint bumper quite up to the brim,
     So fill up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim,
And let us e'en toast them together.
               Let the toast pass,
               Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

                                  – The School for Scandal.