University of Virginia Library

THE EXALE-TATION OF ALE The ancient Liquor of this REALME

OR, A Cleare Definition of its Efficatious operation in severall Pates, Arts, and Professions.

Not drunken nor sober, but neighbour to both,
I met with a friend in Ales-bury Vale;
He saw by my face, that I was in the case
To speak no great harm of a Pot of good Ale.
Then did he me greet, and sayd since we meet,
(And he put me in minde of the name of the Dale)
For Ales-bury's sake, some paines I would take,
And not bury the praise of a Pot of good Ale.
The more to procure me, then he did adjure me,
If the Ale I dranke last were nappy and stale,
To do it its right, and stir up my spri'te,
And fall to commend a &c.
Quoth I, To commend it I dare not begin,
Lest therein my credit might happen to fail;
For many men now doe count it a sin,
But once to looke toward a &c.
Yet I care not a pin, for I see no such sin,
Nor any thing else my courage to quail:
For this we do finde, that take it in kinde,
Much Virtue there is in a &c.
And I meane not the taste, though thereby much grac't,
Nor the Merry-go-down without pull or hale,
Perfuming the throat when the stomack's aflote,
With the fragrant sweet scent of a &c.
Nor yet the delight that comes to the sight,
To see how it flowers and mantles in graile,
As green as a Leek, with a smile in the cheek,
The true orient colour of a &c.
But I meane the Mind, and the good it doth find;
Not onely the Body so feeble and fraile:
For Body and Soule may blesse the Black bowle,
Since both are beholden to a &c.
For when heavinesse the mind doth oppresse,
And sorrow and griefe the heart do assaile,
No remedy quicker, than to take off your Liquor,
And to wash away Cares with a &c.
The Widdow that buried her husband of late
Will soone have forgotten to weep and to waile,
And think every day twain, till she marry again,
If she read the Contents of a &c.
It is like a belly-blast to a Cold heart,
And warms and ingenders the spirits vitall,
To keep them from domage, all sp'rites owe their homage
To the Sp'rite of the Buttery a &c.
And down to the legs the virtue doth goe,
And to a bad Foot-man is as good as a saile,
When it fills the veins and makes light the brains,
No Lackey so nimble as a &c.
The Naked complains not for want of a Coat,
Nor on the cold weather will once turne his taile;
All the way as he goes, he cuts the wind with his nose,
If he be but well wrapt in a &c.
The hungry man takes no thought for his meat,
Though his stomack would brook a ten-penny naile;
He quite forgets hunger, thinks on it no longer,
If he touch but the sparks of a &c.
The Poor man will praise it, so hath he good cause,
That all the yeare eats neither partridge nor quaile,
But sets up his rest, and makes up his feast
With a crust of brown bread and a &c.
The Shepherd, the Sower, the Thresher, the Mower,
The one with his scyth, the other with his flail,
Take them out by the poll, on the peril of my soul,
All will hold up their hands to a &c.
The Soldier, the Saylor, the True-man, the Tayler,
The Lawyer that Sels words by weight and by tale;
Take 'em all as they are, from the War to the Bar,
They all will approve of a &c.
All Religions and Nations, all Countreys and fashions,
Rich or poore, Knave or Whore, dwarfish or tall,
High or low, this I know, all will bow, Ile avow,
To the high power of a &c.
The Sallamander, Brazier that baths in the fire,
Whilst his Bellowes are blowing a blustering gale,
Will shake off his full Kan, and sweare each true Vulcan
Will hazard his wits for a &c.
The Black-smith, whose bellowes all summer do blow,
With the fire in his face still, without e're a Vaile,
Though his throat be full dry, he will tell you no lye,
But where you may be sure of a &c.
Who ever denies it, the Prisoners will praise it,
That beg at the Grate, and ly in the Goale:
For, even in their Fetters, they thinke themselves better
May they get but a two penny black pot of Ale.
For though they be inclos'd in the Grate,
They'le sing and be merry, and care for no Bale;
Nor for hunger, for cold, for fetters or fate,
The Comfort consists in a &c.
The Begger whose portion is alwayes his prayers,
Not having a tatter to hang on his taile,
Is as rich in his rags, as the churle in his bags,
If he once but shakes hands with a &c.
It drives his poverty cleane out of minde,
Forgeting his brown-bread, his wallet, and maile,
He walks in the house like a six-footed lowse,
If he once be enricht with a &c.
And he that doth dig in the ditches all day,
And wearies himselfe quite at the Plough-taile,
Will speak no lesse things, than of Queens and of Kings,
If he touch but the top of a &c.
'Tis like a whetstone to a blunt wit,
And makes a supply where Nature doth faile:
The dullest wit soon will look quite through the Moon,
If his temples be wet with a &c.
Then DICK to his Dearling, full boldly dares speak,
Though before (silly fellow) his courage did quaile,
He gives her the smouch, with his hand on his pouch,
If he meet by the way with a &c.
And it make the Carter a Courtier straightway;
With Rhetoricall terms he will tell his tale;
With Courtesies great store, and his Cap up before
Being school'd but a little with a &c.
The Old man, whose tongue wags faster than his teeth,
(For old-age by nature doth drivel and drale)
Will frig and will fling, like a dog in a string,
If he warme his cold bloud with a &c.
And the good Old Clark, whose sight waxeth dark,
And ever he thinks the Print is too small:
He will see every Letter, and say Service better,
If he glaze but his eyes with a &c.
The Cheeks and the Jawes, to commend it hath cause,
For where they were late but even wan and pale:
They will get them a colour, no Crimson is fuller,
By the true dy and tincture of a &c.
Mark her enemies, though they think themselves wise,
How meager they look, with how low a wail:
How their cheeks do fall, without spirits at all,
That alien their minds from a &c.
And now that the grains do work in my brains,
Me thinks I were able to give by retaile,
Commodities store, a dozen and more,
That flow to mankind from a &c.
The MUSES would muse, any should it misuse;
For, it makes them to sing like a Nightingale,
With a lofty trim note, having washed their throat,
With the Caballine Spring of a &c.
And the Musician of any condition,
It will make him reach to the top of his Scale:
It will clear his pipes, and moisten his lights,
If he drink alternatim a &c.
The Poet divine, that cannot reach wine,
Because that his mony doth many times fail;
Will hit on the Vein, to make a good strein,
If he be but inspired with a &c.
For Ballads ELDERTON never had Peer,
How went his wit in them, with how merry a gale:
And with all the sails up, had he been at the cup,
And washed his beard with a &c.
All Writers or Rimers, for such whose mishap,
Is from Newgate up Houlbourn, to Tyburn to sail;
Shall have suddain expression of all their confession,
If the Muse be but dew'd with a &c.
And the power of it shows, no whit lesse in Prose,
It will file one's Phrase, and set forth his tale:
Fill him but a Boul, it will make his tongue troul,
For flowing speech flows from a &c.
And Master Philosopher, if he drink his part,
Will not trifle his time in the Husk or the Shale;
But go to the Kernell by the depth of his Art,
To be found in the bottom of a &c.
Give a Scholar of OXFORD a pot of Sixteens,
And put him to prove that an Ape hath a tail:
And sixteen times better his Wit will be seen,
If you fetch him from Botley, a &c.
Thus it helps Speech and Wit; And it hurts not a whit,
But rather doth further the Virtues morale:
Then think it not much, if a little I touch
The good moral parts of a &c.
To the Church and Religion it is a good friend,
Or else our Forefathers their wisdome did faile,
That at every mile, next to the Church stile,
Set a consecrate house to a &c.
But now as they say, Beer beares it away;
The more is the pity, if Right might prevaile:
For with this same Beer, came up Heresie here;
The old Catholique Drink is a &c.
This Beer's but an upstart from Dutchland here come,
Whose Credit with us sometimes is but small:
For in the Records of the Empire of Rome,
The old Catholique Drink is a &c.
O! the ancient tales that my Grandam hath told,
How merry we have been in Parlour and Hall;
How in Christmas time, we would dance, sing, and rime,
As if we were mad with a &c.
The Churches much owe, as we all do know;
For when they be drooping and ready to fall,
By a Whitson or Church-Ale, up again they shall goe,
And owe their repairing to a &c.
Truth will do it right, it brings Truth to light,
And many bad matters it helps to reveile;
For, they that will drinke, will speak what they think;
TOM tell-troate lies hid in a &c.
It is Justices friend, she will it commend:
For, all is here served by measure and tale:
Now true-tale and good measure are Justices treasure
And much to the praise of a &c.
And next I alledge, it is Fortitudes edge:
For a very Cow-herd, that shrinks like a Snaile,
Will swear and will swagger, and out goes his dagger,
If he be but arm'd with a &c.
Yea, ALE hath her Knights and Squires of degree,
That never wore Corslet, nor yet shirt of Mail,
But have fought their fights all, 'twixt the pot and the wall,
When once they were dubb'd with a &c.
And (sure) it will make a man suddenly wise,
Er'e-while was scarce able to tell a right tale:
It will open his jaw, he will tell you the Law,
As made a right-Bencher of a &c.
Or he that will make a bargain to gaine,
In buying or setting his goods forth to sale
Must not plod in the mire, but sit by the fire,
And seal up his Match with a &c.
But for Sobernesse needs must I confesse,
The matter goes hard: and few doe prevaile
Not to goe too deep, but temper to keep,
Such is the Attractive of a &c.
But here's an amends, which will make all friends,
And ever doth tend to the best avail;
If you take it too deep, it will make you but sleep;
So comes no great harm of a &c.
If (reeling) they happen to fall to the ground,
The fall is not great they may hold by the Raile:
If into the water, they cannot be drown'd,
For that gift is given to a &c.
If drinking about they chance to fall out,
Feare not the Alarm, though flesh be but frail,
It will prove but some blows, or at most a bloudy nose,
And friends again streight with a &c.
And Physick will favour ALE, as it is bound,
And be against Beer both tooth and nail:
They send up and down all over the Town,
To get for their Patients a &c.
Their Ale-berries, Cawdles, and Possets each one,
And Sillabubs made at the milking-pale,
Although they be many, Beer comes not in any,
But all are compos'd with a &c.
And in very deed, the Hop's but a weed,
Brought o're against Law, and here set to sale:
Would the Law were renew'd, and no more Beer brew'd,
But all good men partake them to a &c.
The Law that will take it under her wing:
For at every Law-day, or Moot of the hale,
One is sworn to serve our Soveraign the KING,
In the ancient Office of a CONNER of ALE.
There's never a Lord of Mannor or of Town,
By strand or by land, by hill or by dale,
But thinks it a Franchise, and a Flowr of the CROWN,
To hold the Assize of a &c.
And though there ly writs, from the Courts Paramoūt,
To stay the proceedings of the Cours Paravaile;
Law favours it so, you may come, you may go,
There lies no Prohibition to a &c.
They talk much of State, both early and late,
But if Gascoign and Spain, their Wine should but fail,
No remedy then, with us Englishmen,
But the State it must stand by a &c.
And they that sit by it, are good men and quiet,
No dangerous Plotters in the Common-weal
Of Treason and Murther: for, they never go further,
Than to call for, and pay for a &c.
To the praise of CAMBRIVIUS that good Brittish King
That devised for his Nation (by the Welshmens tale)
Seventeen hundred years before CHRIST did spring,
The happy invention of a &c.
But he was a Paynim, and ALE then was rife,
Yet after CHRIST came and bid us all hail,
Saint DAVID tid never trink Peer in her life,
But all Cwwrwwhibley a &c.
The North they will prayse it, and prayse it with passion,
Where every River gives name to a Dale:
There men are yet living, that are of th'old fashion,
No Nectar they know but a &c.
The PICTS and the SCOTS, for ALE, were at lots,
So high was the skill, and so kept under seal:
The PICTS were undone, slain each mothers son,
For not teaching the SCOTS to make Hether Eale.
But hither or thither, it skils not much whether:
For drink must be had, men live not by Keal,
Nor by Havor-bannocks, nor by Havor-jannocks,
The thing that SCOTS live on is a &c.
Now, if you will say it, I will not denay it,
That many a man it brings to his bale:
Yet what fairer end, can one wish to his friend,
Than to die by the dart of a &c.
Yet, let not the innocent beare any blame,
It is their own doings to break o're the pale:
And neither the Mault nor the good Wife in fault,
If any be potted with a &c.
They tell whom it kills, but say not a word,
How many a man liveth both sound and hale,
Though he drink no beer any day in the yeare,
By the Radicall humour of a &c.
But, to speak of Killing, that am I not willing,
For that, in a manner, were but to raile:
But Beer hath his name, cause it brings to the Buyer;
Therefore well-fare say I to a &c.
Too many (I wis) with their deaths proved this;
And wherefore if ancient Records do not faile)
He that first brew'd the Hop, was rewarded with a rope,
And found his Beer far more bitter then ALE.
O ALE ab alendo thou Liquor of LIFE!
That I had but a mouth as big as a Whale!
For mine is too little to touch the least tittle
That belongs to the prayse of a &c.
Thus (I trow) some Vertues I have marked you out,
And never a Vice in all this long traile,
But that after the Pot there commeth a Shot,
And thats th'only blot of a &c.
With that my friend said: That Blot will I bear,
You have done very well, it is time to strike saile;
Wee'l have six pots more, though I die on the score,
To make all this good of a Pot of good ALE.