Omnes. Ay, a song, a song!
Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons.
SONG.
Let school-masters puzzle their brain,
With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,
Give genus a better discerning.
Let them brag of their heathenish gods,
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians;
Their quis, and their quæs, and their quods,