Lady Smart. I never taste Malt Liquor; but they say, ’tis well hopt.
Sir John. Hopt! why, if it had hopp’d a little further, it would have hopp’d into the River. O my Lord, my Ale is Meat, Drink and Cloth; it will make a Cat speak, and a wise Man dumb.
Lady Smart. I was told, ours was very strong.
Sir John. Ay, Madam, strong of the Water; I believe the Brewer forgot the Malt, or the River was too near him: Faith, it is mere Whip-Belly-Vengeance; he that drinks most has the worst Share.
Col. I believe, Sir John, Ale is as Plenty as Water at your House.
Sir John. Why, faith, at Christmas we have many Comers and Goers; and they must not be sent away without a Cup of Christmas Ale, for fear they should —— behind the Door.
Lady Smart. I hear, Sir John has the nicest Garden in England; they say, ’tis kept so clean, that you can’t find a Place where to spit.
Sir John. O Madam; you are pleased to say so.
Lady Smart. But, Sir John, your Ale is terrible strong and heady in Derbyshire, and will soon make one drunk and sick; what do you then?