Whoever denies it, the pris'ners will praise it,
That beg at the grate and, lie in the jail,

For even in their fetters, they think themselves better,
May they get but a twopenny black pot of good ale.

The beggar whofe portion is always his prayers,
Not having a tatter to hang on his tail,

Is as rich in his rags as the churl in his bags,

If he once but shakes hands with a tankard of ale.

It drives his poverty clean out of mind,

Forgetting his brown bread, his wallet and mail,
He walks in the house like a fix-footed loufe,
If he once be enrich'd with a pot of good ale.

And he that doth dig in the ditches all day,

And wearies himself quite at the plough-tail,
Will speak no less things than of queens and of kings,
If he touch but the top of a pot of good ale.

'Tis like a whetstone to a blunt wit,

And makes a fupply where nature doth fail;
The dulleft wit foon will look quite through the moon,
If his temples be wet with a pot of good ale.

Then Dick to his dearling full boldly dares speak,

Though before (filly fellow) his courage did quail, He gives her the fmouch, with his hand on his pouch, If he meet by the way with a pot of good ale.

And it makes the carter a courtier straitway,

With rhetorical terms he will tell his tale,
With courtefies great store, and his cap up before,
Being school'd but a little with a pot of good ale.

The

The old man whose tongue wags fafter than his teeth,

(For old age by nature doth drivel and drale) Will frig and will fling like a dog in a ftring,

If he warm his cold blood with a pot of good ale.

And the good old clerk whofe fight waxeth dark,
And ever he thinks the print is too small,
He will fee every letter, and fay service better,
If he glaze but his eyes with a pot of good ale.

The cheeks and the jaws to commend it have caufe;
For where they were late but even wan and pale,
They will get them a colour, no crimson is fuller,
By the true dye and tincture of a pot of good ale.

Mark her enemies, though they think themselves wise,
How meagre they look, with how low a wale,
How their cheeks do fall, without fpirits at all,
That alien their minds from a pot of good ale.

And now that the grains do work in my brains,
Methinks I were able to give by retail,
Commodities ftore, a dozen and more,

That flow to mankind from a pot of good ale.

The Mufes would mufe any fhould it mifufe:

For it makes them to fing like a nightingale, With a lofty trim note, having washed their throat, With the Caballine fpring of a pot of good ale.

And the musician of any condition,

It will make him reach to the top of his scale;
It will clear his pipes, and moiften his lights,
If he drink alternatim a pot of good ale.

The

The poet divine that cannot reach wine,
Because that his money doth many times fail,
Will hit on the vein to make a good train,

If he be but infpir'd with a pot of good ale.

For ballads Elderton never had beer,

How went his wit in them, with how merry a gale;
And with all the fails up, had he been at the cup,
And washed his beard with a pot of good ale.

And the power of it shows, no whit lefs in prose,
It will fill ones phrafe, and fet forth his tale :
Fill him but a bowl, it will make his tongue troul,
For flowing speech flows from a pot of good ale.

And mafter philofopher, if he drink his part,
Will not trifle his time in the husk or the fhale,
But go to the kernel by the depth of his art,
To be found in the bottom of a pot of good ale.

Give a scholar of Oxford a pot of fixteen,

And put him to prove

that an ape hath no tail, And fixteen times better his wit will be seen,

If you fetch him from Botley a pot of good ale.

Thus it helps fpeech 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 pot of good ale,

To the church and religion it is a good friend,
Or else our forefathers their wifdom did fail,
That at every mile, next to the church ftile,
Set a confecrate houfe to a pot of good ale.

5

But

But now, as they fay, beer bears it away;

The more is the pity, if right might prevail ; For with this fame beer, came up herefy here,

The old catholic drink is a pot of good ale.

The churches much owe, as we all do know,
For when they be drooping and ready to fall,
By a Whitfun or Church-ale up again they shall go,
And owe their repairing to a pot of good ale.

Truth will do it right, it brings truth to light,
And many bad matters it helps to reveal;

For they that will drink, will speak what they think :
Tom Tell-troth lies hid in a pot of good ale.

It is Juftices friend, fhe will it commend,

For all is here ferved by measure and tale;
Now true-tale, and good measure are Juftices treasure,
And much to the praise of a pot of good ale.

And next I alledge it is Fortitudes edge,

For a very cow-herd, that fhrinks like a fnail, Will fwear and will fwagger, and out goes his dagger, If he be but arm'd with a pot of good ale.

Yea ale hath her knights and fquires of degree,

That never wore corflet, 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 pot of good ale.

And fure it will make a man fuddenly wife,
Ere-while was fcarce able to tell a right tale:
It will open his jaw, he will tell you the law,

As made a right bencher of a pot of good ale.

Or

Or he that will make a bargain to gain,

In buying or fetting his goods forth to fale, Must not plod in the mire, but fit by the fire, And feal up his match with a pot of good ale.

But for foberness needs muft I confefs,

The matter goes hard; and few do prevail Not to go too deep, but temper to keep,

Such is the attractive of a pot of good ale.

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 fleep;
So comes no great harm of a pot of good ale.

If, reeling, they happen to fall to the ground,
The fall is not great, they may hold by the rail:
If into the water, they cannot be drown'd,

For that gift is given to a pot of good ale.

If drinking about they chance to fall out,

Fear not that alarm, though flesh be but frail,
It will prove that some blows, or at most a bloody nose,
And friends again ftrait with a pot of good ale.

And phyfic will favour ale as it is bound,
And be against beer both tooth and nail;
They fend up and down, all over the town,
To get for their patients a pot of good ale.

Their ale-berries, caudles, and poffets each one,
And fyllabubs made at the milking pail,
Although they be many, beer comes not in any,
But all are compofed with a pot of good ale.
VOL. II.

F

And