[A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing.
Lovel. Here comes one, that will quickly dissipate these humors.
Enter one drunk.
Drunken Man. Good-morrow to you, gentlemen. Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant. Honest Jack Woodvil, I will get drunk with you to-morrow.
Wood. And why to-morrow, honest Mr. Freeman?
Drunken Man. I scent a traitor in that question. A beastly question. Is it not his Majesty's birthday? the day of all days in the year, on which King Charles the Second was graciously pleased to be born. (Sings.) "Great pity 'tis such days as those should come but once a year."
Lovel. Drunk in a morning! foh! how he stinks!
Drunken Man. And why not drunk in a morning? canst tell, bully?
Wood. Because, being the sweet and tender infancy of the day, methinks, it should ill endure such early blightings.
Drunken Man. I grant you, 'tis in some sort the youth and tender nonage of the day. Youth is bashful, and I give it a cup to encourage it. (Sings.) "Ale that will make Grimalkin prate."—At noon I drink for thirst, at night for fellowship, but, above all, I love to usher in the bashful morning under the auspices of a freshening stoop of liquor. (Sings.) "Ale in a Saxon rumkin then, makes valor burgeon in tall men."—But, I crave pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from serious thoughts. There be those that wait for me in the cellar.