[Exeunt.
THE THIRD.
SCENE.—An Apartment of State in Woodvil Hall.
Cavaliers drinking.
JOHN WOODVIL, LOVEL, GRAY, and four more.
John. More mirth, I beseech you, gentlemen—Mr. Gray, you are not merry.—
Gray. More wine, say I, and mirth shall ensue in course. What! we have not yet above three half-pints a man to answer for. Brevity is the soul of drinking, as of wit. Despatch, I say. More wine. (Fills.)
1st Gent. I entreat you, let there be some order, some method, in our drinkings. I love to lose my reason with my eyes open, to commit the deed of drunkenness with forethought and deliberation. I love to feel the fumes of the liquor gathering here, like clouds.
2nd Gent. And I am for plunging into madness at once. Damn order, and method, and steps, and degrees, that he speaks of. Let confusion have her legitimate work.