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scaena 2.
enter Sir Petronell Flash, Mr Scatterbraine, & Sir Rancefort Bloteface 2 drawers.Sir Petro.
Drawer
Draw.
anon, anon, Sir.
Sir Petro.
charge thy brave skinkers with the Lebian grape
& let it flow into us.—
Draw.
a pottle of pure allegont you meane Sir?
Sir Petr.
vanish & traverse sodainely. now Rann,
is this not better, then to talke of seasons
& plowing wether, with Tom Corydon?
or to feele shepes tailes for to judge their guspans?
63
of the new moone; or make an homely
on the proceedings of the shepheards starre?
Sir Ran.
I am thy convert, (brave Sir Pet.) noe more
will I drink whigg, or cyder keepe in store.
Scatterb.
why sack is the elixar of all wit
and drinking cleane your best philosophy.
what ever poet or historian
broach't their eternall fancies, without wine?
Ennius the father of old poets sunke
low in his verse, when he could not be drunke.
Sir Pet.
how can it choose be otherwise? the spirits
without the fluxure of the grape are stupid?
the braines are overmoist, the vertue weake
of the capacity; all the faculties
frozen without the opening of the Sun.
but as that shining, & aeternall planet
comforts the whole horizon, with his cheare:
so doth his eldest son of plants, the noble
& nimble vine, chase away all the clouds
of heavy spleene; and make the soule ascend
the highest haemisphaere of the best invention.
Sir Ran.
methinks we should have some facetious ditty
in commendation of this noble plant
Sir Pet.
Will Scatterbraine can sing one. wet thy whistle
& lift thy eylids to th'muses hyll
that Bacchus may thy dull invention fill.
Will. Scatt.
have at it then for once: but sir you do not
expect a voice.—
Both.
we doe attend thy Sonnet.
Scatt.
[(1)]
Now that the cold & hoary frostesenvite each stranger to their hostes
& every mountaine top, doth glow,
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let us by a nimble fire
drinke a health to our desire,
and in a well relish't cuppe
strive to drinke our sorrowes up.
(2)
Summer is a time to gatherwhat in winter we may spend:
then we should arrise the rather
that we now might Comfort find;
when the ancient glazed nose
droppeth in the portall doore,
let our cheekes looke like the rose
never blasting any more.
(3)
Drinke we then a merry roundeach to others friendly cheere;
without any peevish sound,
each quaffe up his cup of beare.
let all foolish brabling words
of some businesse stale avaunt,
such are worse then very swords.
in the hands of men that raunt.
(4)
mirth & unmixt merry gleeis the thing we ayme at, all:
Joviall drinking on our Knee,
when that we are like to fall.
quiet whiffing up and downe
our verinaes misty cloud,
never drawne once by the clowne
which exalted whoopes soe loud.
(5)
If by chance a nimble cupof the lesbian grape arrives,
we will surely drinke it up,
to our doxeys or our wives;
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for to warme our chilled soules
to let in a Joviall source
through the bottom of the bowles.
Sir Ran.
an exsquisite fine ditty & much pitty
it is not printed, with the elegant picture
of a black Indian smoaking boy, & pasted
in every taphouse by the chimney side.
Sir Pet.
the song will serve for some encoradgement
(I must confesse) unto a puny tipler.
but for a naturall & easy drinker,
a goose swims not with more facility,
nor duckling paddles, with more ease, then hee
does dabble in his element of liquor.
Will.
enough of this; lets now unto our mistresses,
those are our rich canaries too; by this time
they are provided; and they want their ballast.
Sir Ran.
proceed heroig Scatterbraine: from wine
we will accoste our mistresses divine.
exeunt
Finis Ac 3. s. 2.
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