University of Virginia Library

6. SATYRE.

[Tom's no good fellow, nor no honest man]

Tom's no good fellow, nor no honest man:
Hang him, he wold not pledge Ralfe halfe a can
But if a friend may speake as he doth thinke,
Will is a right good fellow by this drinke:
Oh William, William, th'art as kind a youth,
As euer I was drunke with, thats the trueth.
Tom is no more like thee, then Chalks like Cheese
To pledge a health, or to drinke vp-se freese:
Fill him his Beaker, he will neuer flinch,
To giue a full quart pot the emptie pinch.
Heele looke vnto your water well enough.
And hath an eye that no man leaues a snuffe.
A pox of peecemeale drinking (William sayes)
Play it away, weele haue no stoppes and stayes,
Blowne drinke is odious, what man can disiest it,
No faythfull drunkard, but he doth detest it.
I hate halfe this, out with it, and an end,
He is a buzard will not pledge his friend,
But standes as though his drinkes mast-sacke were closed
with, Heer's t'ye Sir, against you are disposed?
How say my friend, an may I be so bold,
Blowing on's Beere like broth to make it cold,
Keeping the full glasse till it stand and sower,
Drinking but after halfe a mile an hower,
Vnworthy to make one, or gaine a place,
Where boone companions gage the pots apace.
A mans a man, and therewithall an ende,
Good fellowship was bred and borne to spende,
No man ere saw a pound of sorrow yet,
Could be allowd to pay an ounce of debt.
We may be here to day, and gone to morrow.
Call mee for sixe pots more come on, hang sorrow
Tut, lacke another day? Why, tis all one,
When we are dead, then all the world is gone.
Begin to me good Ned: What? hast gon right?
Is it the same that tickeld mee last night?
We gaue the Brewers Diet-drinke a wipe:
Braue Malt-Tabacco in a quart pot-pipe,
It nettld mee, and did my braines inspire,
I haue forsworne your drinking smoake and fier:
Out vpon Cane and leafe Tabacco smell:
Diuells take home your drinke, keepe it in hell.
Carowse in Cannons Trinidado smoake,
Drinke healths to one another till you choake,
And let the Indians pledge you till they sweate,
Giue me the element that drowneth heate:
Strong sodden Water is a vertuous thing,
It makes one sweate, and swagger like a King,
And hath more hidden Uertue then you thinke,
For Ile maintaine, good liquor's meate and drinke:
Nay, Ile goe further with you, for in troth,
It is as good as meate, and drinke, and cloth;
For he that is in Malt-mans Hall inrolde,
Cares not a poynt for hunger nor for colde.
If it be cold, he drinketh till he sweate,
If it be hot, he drinkes to lay the heate:
So that how ere it be cold or hot,
To pretious vse he doth apply the pot:
And will approue it Phisically sound,
If it be drunke vpon the Danish round:
Or taken with a Pickle-herring or two,
As Flemmings at Saint Katherines vse to do:
Which fish hath vertue, eaten salt and raw,
To pull drinke to it, euen as leate doth straw.
Oh tis a very Whetstone to the braine,
A march-beere shewer that puts downe April raine
It makes a man actiue to leape and spring,
To daunce and vault, to carrowle and to sing:
For all exploytes it doth a man inable,
T'out leape mens heades, and caper ore the table,
To burne Sacke with a candle till he reeles,
And then to trip-vp his companions heeles.
To sing like the great Organ pipe in Poules,
And censure all men vnder his controules.
Against all commers ready to maintaine,
That deepest wit is in a drunken braine.
I marry is it; that it is he knowes it,
And by this drinke, at all times will depose it,
He sayes, that day is to a minute shrunke,
In which he makes not some good fellow drunke:
As for nine worthies on his Hostes wall,
He knowes three worthy drunkards passe them all
The first of them in many a Tauerne tride,
At last subdued by Aquavitæ, dide.
His second Worthies date was brought to fine,
Feasting with Oysters and braue Rennish wine,
The third, whom diuers Dutchmen held full deare,
Was stabb'd by pickeld Hearings & strong Beere.
Well, happy is the man doth rightly know,
The vertue of three cuppes of Chornice:
Being taken fasting, th'only cure for Flegme,
It worketh wonders on the braine, extreame.
A pottle of wine at morning, or at night,
Drunke with an Apple, is in ployed right
To rince the Liuer, and to purifie
A dead sicke Hart from all infirmitie.