If Consequence do but approue my dreame,
My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame
Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already
Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am a
Souldier
Iago. Some Wine hoa.
And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke:
And let me the Cannakin clinke.
A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span,
Why then let a Souldier drinke.
Some Wine Boyes
Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song
Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are nothing to your English
Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?
Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane
dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.
He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next
Pottle can be fill'd
Cas. To the health of our Generall
Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice
Iago. Oh sweet England.
King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,
His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,
He held them Six pence all to deere,
With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:
He was a wight of high Renowne,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,
And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.
Some Wine hoa