—Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donn’d his helm For such a petty war; his soldiership Is twice the other twain: but let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt’s widow pluck The ne’er lust-wearied Antony.
If he fill’d His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for’t: but to confound such time That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours,—’tis to be chid As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment.
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Show samples from other sources
To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain.
Anthony Doerr -- All the Light We Cannot See
As with his nose for wine, Nathan had an informed palate (a reaction, he said, to a childhood surfeit of soggy kreplach and gefilte fish) and he took obvious joy in making her acquainted with New York’s incredible and manifold banquet.