The New Inn.Act 1. Scene 2.

Lovel, Ferret, Host.

What's that? what's that?     Fer. A buzzing of mine Host
About a Fly! a murmur that he has.
Host. Sir I am telling your Stote here, Monsieur Ferret,
(For that I hear's his Name) and dare tell you, Sir,
If you have a mind to be melancholy, and musty,
There's Footmans Inn, at the Towns end, the Stocks,

Or Carriers Place, at Sign o' the broken Wain,
Mansions of State! Take up your Harbour there,
There are both Flies and Fleas, and all variety
Of Vermin, for inspection or dissection.
Lov. We ha' set our rest up here, Sir, i' your Heart.
Host. Sir set your Heart at rest, you shall not do it:
Unless you can be jovial. Brain o' Man,
Be jovial first, and drink, and dance, and drink.
Your lodging here, and wi' your daily dumps,
Is a meer Libel 'gain my House and me;
And, then, your scandalous Commons.     Lov. How, mine Host?
Host. Sir, they do scandal me, upo' the Road, here.
A poor quotidian Rack o' Mutton, roasted
Dry to be grated! and that driven down
With Bear and Butter-Milk, mingled together,
Or clarified Whey instead of Claret!
It is against my Free-hold, my Inheritance,
My Magna Charta, Cor laetificat,
To drink such Balder-dash, or Bonny-clabbee!
Gi' me good Wine, or Catholick, or Christian,
Wine is the Word that glads the Heart of Man:
And mine's the House of Wine, Sack, says my Bush,
Be merry, and drink Sherry; that's my Poesie!
For I shall never joy i' my Light-heart,
So long as I conceive a sullen Guest,
Or any thing that's earthy!     Lov. Humorous Host.
Host. I care not if I be.     Lov. But airy also,
Not to defraud you of your Rights, or trench
Upo' your Privileges, or great Charter,
(For those are every Hostlers Language now)
Say, you were born beneath those smiling Stars,
Have made you Lord, and owner of the Heart,
Of the Light-heart in barnet; suffer us
Who are more Saturnine, t' enjoy the Shade
Of your Round Roof yet.     Host. Sir I keep no Shades
Nor Shelters, I: for either Owls or Rere-mice.