Sir Fran. I think it would, son: Here, John Moody, get us a tankard of good heavy stuff presently.
John Moody. Sir, here's Norfolk Nog to be had next door.
Squire Humph. That's best of all, feather; but make haste with it, John.
[Exit Moody.
Lady Head. Well, I wonder, Sir Francis, you will encourage that lad to swill his guts thus with such beastly lubberly liquor; if it were Burgundy or Champain, something might be said for't; they'd perhaps give him some wit and spirit; but such heavy, muddy stuff as this, will make him quite stupid.
Sir Fran. Why you know, my dear, I have drank good ale, and strong beer these thirty years, and by your permission I don't know, that I want wit.
Miss Betty. But I think you might have more papa, if you'd have been govern'd by my mother.
Enter John Moody with a tankard.
Sir Fran. Daughter, he that is govern'd by his wife, has no wit at all.
Miss Betty. Then I hope I shall marry a fool, father, for I shall love to govern dearly.