Boy. Sir, they say they know all your money is gone, and they will trust you for no more drink.
Old Mer. Will they not? Let 'em choose. The best is, I have mirth at home, and need not send abroad for that. Let them keep their drink to themselves.
"For Jillian of Berry, she dwells on a hill,
And she hath good beer and ale to sell,
And of good fellows she thinks no ill,
And thither will we go now, now, now, and
thither will we go now.
And when you have made a little stay,
You need not know what is to pay,
But kiss your hostess and go your way.