Ditty. Ale's a strong wrestler,
Flings all it hath met,
And makes the ground slippery,
Though't be not wet.
Omnes. But come, my boon, &c.
Ditty. Ale is both Ceres
And good Neptune too;
Ale's froth was the sea,
From whence Venus grew.
Bud. Ale is immortal,
And be there no stops,
In bonny lads quaffing,
Can live without hops,
Omnes. Then come, my boon fellows,
Let's drink it around,
It keeps us from th' grave,
Though it lays us o' th' ground.
[All drink.
Enter Welcome.
Wel. Well said, my whistling birds; 'tis spring with you all the year long, while the ale flourishes. Come, I have provided a supper will tire your teeth; 'tis but a prologue, though, of to-morrow's feast. I hope your appetites need no provocations. It now waits for you, but will not be ready till you concoct it. Come then, cheer up, my buxom girls; the cakes and posset my wife shall provide, and I'll engage myself to be father to you both. Ditty's ballads and his budget shall be cut out into favours and gloves. [Exeunt.