Enter Aimwell in a riding-habit, and Archer as footman, carrying a portmantle.
Bon. This way, this way, gentlemen!
Aim. [To Archer.] Set down the things; go to the stable, and see my horses well rubbed. [20]
Arch. I shall, sir. [Exit.
Aim. You're my landlord, I suppose?
Bon. Yes, sir, I 'm old Will Boniface, pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is.
Aim. O Mr. Boniface, your servant!
Bon. O sir!—What will your honour please to drink, as the saying is?
Aim. I have heard your town of Lichfield much famed for ale; I think I 'll taste that. [29]
Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in Staffordshire; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourteen year old the fifth day of next March, old style.