“Be YOU quiet!” growled Hayes, scowling at the lad. “I will drink what I please, and ask no counsel of yours.” And he muttered some more curses against young Billings, which showed what his feelings were towards his wife's son; and which the latter, for a wonder, only received with a scornful smile, and a knowing look at Wood.
Well! the five extra bottles were brought, and drunk by Mr. Hayes; and seasoned by many songs from the recueil of Mr. Thomas d'Urfey and others. The chief part of the talk and merriment was on Hayes's part; as, indeed, was natural,—for, while he drank bottle after bottle of wine, the other two gentlemen confined themselves to small beer,—both pleading illness as an excuse for their sobriety.
And now might we depict, with much accuracy, the course of Mr. Hayes's intoxication, as it rose from the merriment of the three-bottle point to the madness of the four—from the uproarious quarrelsomeness of the sixth bottle to the sickly stupidity of the seventh; but we are desirous of bringing this tale to a conclusion, and must pretermit all consideration of a subject so curious, so instructive, and so delightful. Suffice it to say, as a matter of history, that Mr. Hayes did actually drink seven bottles of mountain-wine; and that Mr. Thomas Billings went to the “Braund's Head,” in Bond Street, and purchased another, which Hayes likewise drank.
“That'll do,” said Mr. Wood to young Billings; and they led Hayes up to bed, whither, in truth, he was unable to walk himself.
Mrs. Springatt, the lodger, came down to ask what the noise was. “'Tis only Tom Billings making merry with some friends from the country,” answered Mrs. Hayes; whereupon Springatt retired, and the house was quiet.
Some scuffling and stamping was heard about eleven o'clock.
After they had seen Mr. Hayes to bed, Billings remembered that he had a parcel to carry to some person in the neighbourhood of the Strand; and, as the night was remarkably fine, he and Mr. Wood agreed to walk together, and set forth accordingly.