Here are my praters; now if I did well
I should belabour 'em, but I have found
A way to quiet 'em, worth a thousand on't.
Lod. If we could get a fellow that would do it.
Fat. What villany is now in hand?
Pis. 'Twill be hard to be done in my opinion
Unless we light upon an English-man
With seven-score surfeits in him.
Lod. Are the English-men such stubborn drinkers?
Piso. Not a leak at Sea
Can suck more liquor; you shall have their children
Christened in mull'd sack, and at five years old, able
To knock a Dane down: Take an English-man
And cry St. George, and give him but a rasher,
And you shall have him upon even terms
Defy a hogshead; such a one would do it
Home boy, and like a work-man: at what weapon?
Lod. Sherry sack: I would have him drink stark dead
If it were possible: at worst past portage.
Piso. What is the end then?
Lod. Dost thou not perceive it?
If he be drunk dead, there's a fair end of him.
If not, this is my end, or by enticing,
Or by deceiving, to conduct him where
The fool is, that admires him; and if sober,
His nature be so rugged, what will't be
When he is hot with wine? come let's about it,
If this be done but handsomely, I'le pawn
My head she hath done with Souldiers.
Piso. This may do well.