For a very Cow-heard, that shrinks like a Snaile,
Will swear and will swagger, and out goes his Dagger,
If he be but arm’d with a pot of good ale.
Yea, ale hath her Knights and Squires of Degree,
That never wore Corslet, nor yet shirts of Maile,
But have fought their fights all, twixt the pot and the wall,
When once they were dub’d with a pot of good ale.
And sure it will make a man suddenly wise,
Er’e-while was scarce able to tell a right tale:
It will open his jaw, he will tell you the Law,