Are you sadd,
For fortune badd,
And would bee gladd
As ever you were,
If that a quaffe
Doe not make you laffe,
Then with a staffe
Drive mee out of dore.
Heers then a full, &c.
To tell you his merritts, 60
Good thoughts it inherites,
It raiseth the spirritts
And quickens the witt;
It peoples the veyns,
It scoureth the reynes,
It purgeth the braines
And maks all things fitte.
Heers then a full, &c.
It makes a man bold,
It keepes out the cold; 70
Hee hath all things twice told
Vnto his comforte,
Hee stands in the middle,
The world, hey dery diddle,
Goes round without a fiddle
To make them sporte.
Heers then a full carowse, &c.
F. 80v rev.Por. Why well said, my ladds of mettall, this is somwhat yett, 'tis trimlye done; but what sporte, what merriment, all dead, no vertue extant? 80
Pri[mus]. Pray, sir, gett our good Mistris to bestowe something on us, & wee ar gone.
Por. Talke of that tempore venturo; there's no goinge to any other houses now, your bowle is at the bottome, & that which is left is for mee.
Sec[undus]. Nay, good Master Porter.
Por. Come, come, daunce vs a morrice, or els goe sell fishe; I warrant youle make as good a night of it heere as if you had beene at all the houses in the towne.
Ter[tius]. Nay, pray letts goe, wee can doe nothinge. 90
Por. Noe! What was that I tooke you all a gabling tother day in mother Bunches backside by the well there, when Tom at Hobses ranne vnder the hovell with a kettle on's head?