The monks of Melrose made fat kail On Fridays when they fasted; And neither wanted beef nor ale, So long as their neighbours’ lasted.
The names of some of the drinks in vogue are exceedingly suggestive; we read of Bishop, Cardinal, Lawn Sleeves, Pope, and others of a similar character.
The Glutton-masses of the secular clergy, as described by Henry in his History of England, “were celebrated five times a year, in honour of the Virgin Mary, in this manner. Early in the morning the people of the parish assembled in the church, loaded with ample stores of meats and drinks of all kinds. As soon as mass ended, the feast began, in which the clergy and laity engaged with equal ardour. The church was turned into a tavern, and became a scene of excessive riot and intemperance. The priests and people of different parishes entered into formal contests, which of them should have the greatest glutton mass, i.e., which of them should devour the greatest quantity of meat and drink in honour of the Holy Virgin.”
The Tudor period seems to have produced but little amendment in this respect. Satirists of the day make constant allusion to the fondness of ecclesiastics, both exalted and humble, for strong drink and every kind of sensual indulgence. Skelton, in Colin Clout, speaking of the angry disputes of churchmen when under the influence of drink, says:—
Such logic men will chop, And in their fury hop When the good ale-sop Doth dance in their foretop.
In the old Comedy of Gammer Gurton’s Needle, already referred to, the parson is wanted, and the old Gammer gives the boy the following directions for finding him:—
Hence swithe to Doctor Rat, hye thee that thou were gone, And pray him come speke with me, cham not well at ease, Shall find him at his chamber, or els at Mother Bees, Els seek him at Hobfilcher’s shop; for as charde it reported There is the best Ale in the Town, and now is most resorted.
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The boy goes forth to seek him as he is ordered; and when he returns, Gammer thus inquires:—
Gammer: “Where did’st thou finde him, Boy? was he not wher I told thee?” Cock: “Yes, yes, even at Hobfilcher’s house, by him that bought and sold me: A cup of ale had in his hand, and a crab lay in the fier . .”