KEMPTHORN (springing to his feet).
Well said, my hearty!
There's a brave fellow! There's a man of pluck!
A man who's not afraid to say his say,
Though a whole town's against him. Rain, rain, rain,
Bones of St. Botolph, and put out this fire!
The drum beats. Exeunt all but MERRY, KEMPTHORN, and COLE.
MERRY. And now that matter's ended, Goodman Cole, Fetch me a mug of ale, your strongest ale.
KEMPTHORN (sitting down).
And me another mug of flip; and put
Two gills of brandy in it.
[Exit COLE.
MERRY.
No; no more.
Not a drop more, I say. You've had enough.
KEMPTHORN. And who are you, sir?
MERRY.
I'm a Tithing-man,
And Merry is my name.
KEMPTHORN.
A merry name!
I like it; and I'll drink your merry health
Till all is blue.
MERRY.
And then you will be clapped
Into the stocks, with the red letter D
Hung round about your neck for drunkenness.
You're a free-drinker,—yes, and a free-thinker!
KEMPTHORN. And you are Andrew Merry, or Merry Andrew.