Another he makes deaf your ears to heare
The vain tautologies he doth declare;
That, had you as many ears as Argus eyes;
He'd make them weary all with tales, and lyes:
And at the period of each idle fable,

He gives the on-set to out-laugh the Table.

One he sits drinking healths to such a friend,
Then to his Mistris he a health doth send :
This publick Captains health he next doth mean,
And then in private to some nasty Quean;

Nothing but healths of love is his pretence,
Till he himself hath lost both health and sense.

To make the number up amongst the crew,
Another being o're-fill'd, begins to spue
Worse then the brutish beast; (O fy upon it !)
It is a qualme forsooth doth cause him vomit.
So that his stomack being over-prest,

He must disgorge it, e're he can have rest.

Here sits one straining of his drunken throat
Beyond all reason, yet far short of note:
Singing is his delight, then hoops and hallows,
Making a Garboyle worse then Vulcans bellows.
Now for a Counter-tenor he takes place,

But straining that too high, falls to a base.
Then screws his mouth an inch beyond his forme,
To treble it, just like a Gelders-horne:

He's all for singing, and he hates to chide,
Till blithfull Bacchus cause his tongue be tide.

One like an Ape shews many tricks and toys,
To leap, and dance, and sing with ruefull noise;
Over the foorme he skips, then crosse-legd sits
Upon the table, in his apish fits,

From house to house he rambles in such sort,
That no Baboon could make you better sport;
He pincheth one, another with his wand
He thrusts, or striketh, or else with his hand :
Pisses the room, and as he sleeping lyes,
Waters his Couch (not with repenting eyes).

A seaventh, he sits mute, as if his tongue
Had never learn'd no other word but mum;
And with his mouth he maketh mops and mews,

Just like an Ape his face in form he screws:
Then nods with hum, and hah; but not one word
His tongue-tide foolish silence can afford.

To note his gesture, and his snorting after,

"Twould make a Horse break all his girts with laughter. But questionlesse he'd speak more were he able, Which you shall hear, having well slept at table.

Sir reverence, your stomacks do prepare
Against some word, or deed, ill-sent doth beare.
So this most sordod beast being drunk, doth misse
The Chamber-pot, and in his hose doth pisse.

Nay, smell but near him, you perhaps may find,

Not onely piss'd before, but

behind;

Each company loaths him, holding of their nose: Scorning, and pointing at his filthy hose;

As no condition of a Drunkard's good,

So this smels worst of all the loathsome brood.

Though it may seem rude

For me to intrude,

With these my Bears by chance a

"Twere sport for a King,

If they could sing

As well as they can dance-a.

Then to put you out

Of fear or doubt,

He came from St. Katherine-a. These dancing three,

By the help of me,

Who am the post of the Signe-a.

We sell good ware,

And we need not care,

Though Court and Countrey knew it ;

Our Ale's o'th best :

And each good guest

Prayes for their souls that brew it.

For any Alehouse,

We care not a Louse,

Nor Tavern in all the Town-a:

Nor the Vintry Cranes,

Nor St. Clement Danes,

Nor the Devill can put us down-a.

Who has once there been,

Comes hither agen,

The liquor is so mighty.

Beer strong and stale,

And so is our Ale;

And it burns like Aqua-vitæ.

To a stranger there,

If any appeare,