and to conclude, pine away in melancholy and sorrow, before thou
hast the fourth part of a dram of my juice to cheer up thy spirits.

SUM. Hale him away, he barketh like a wolf:
It is his drink, not he, that rails on us.

BAC. Nay soft, brother Summer, back with that fool. Here is a snuff in
the bottom of the jack, enough[95] to light a man to bed withal: we'll
leave no flocks behind us, whatsoever we do.

SUM. Go drag him hence, I say, when I command.

BAC. Since we must needs go, let's go merrily. Farewell, Sir Robert
Toss-pot: sing amain _Monsieur Mingo_, whilst I mount up my ass.

[_Here they go out, singing, "Monsieur Mingo," as they came in_.

WILL SUM. Of all the gods, this Bacchus is the ill-favoured'st
mis-shapen god that ever I saw. A pox on him! he hath christened me with
a new nickname of Sir Robert Toss-pot that will not part from me this
twelvemonth. Ned fool's clothes are so perfumed with the beer he poured
on me, that there shall not be a Dutchman within twenty miles, but he'll
smell out and claim kindred of him. What a beastly thing it is to bottle
up all in a man's belly, when a man must set his guts on a gallon-pot
last, only to purchase the alehouse title of _boon companion_. "Carouse;
pledge me, and you dare! 'Swounds, I'll drink with thee for all that
ever thou art worth!" It is even as two men should strive who should run
farthest into the sea for a wager. Methinks these are good household
terms, "Will it please you to be here, sir? I commend me to you! Shall I
be so bold as trouble you? Saving your tale, I drink to you." And if
these were put in practice but a year or two in taverns, wine would soon
fall from six-and-twenty pound a tun, and be beggar's money--a penny a
quart, and take up his inn with waste beer in the alms-tub. I am a
sinner as others: I must not say much of this argument. Every one, when
he is whole, can give advice to them that are sick. My masters, you that
be good fellows, get you into corners, and sup off your provender
closely:[96] report hath a blister on her tongue! open taverns are
tell-tales. _Non peccat quicunque potest peccasse negare_.

SUM. I'll call my servants to account, said I?
A bad account; worse servants no man hath.
_Quos credis fidos effuge, tutis eris_:
The proverb I have prov'd to be too true,
_Totidem domi hostes habemus quot servos_.
And that wise caution of Democritus,
_Servus necessaria possessio, non autem dulcis_:
Nowhere fidelity and l