My Sorrow Refute

I was drunk when I did but speak to you,
Though drunk with pride or drunk in sin, neither
Is more than reason, never an excuse.
A Lady of your station should never 
  Be subject to such ill speech as my mouth 
  Did misrepresent. Compliment and toast 
  The most wondrous of speeches with troth
  Tea, and the drink of horses still does boast.

I, in hope of a merry jest did toss 
A quip, and may not have hurt where your heart 
Resides, but less close misses have cut `cross
Ties before and of such risk I`ll no part.

Accept this, friend, as a poor substitute
For my error and my sorrow refute.