The lively Frenchman found plenty of native writers to reëcho him. Champagne sparkles in all the plays of the Restoration, and seems the fitting inspiration of their matchless briskness of dialogue. The Millamours and Bellairs, the Carelesses and Rangers, the Sir Joskin Jolleys and Sir Fopling Flutters, the _beaux_ of the Mall and the rakes of the Mulberry and New Spring Gardens, the gay frequenters of the Folly on the Thames and the _habitués_ of Pontack's Ordinary, whom the contemporary dramatists transferred bodily to the stage of the King's or the Duke's, are constantly tossing off bumpers of it. Their lives would seem to have been one continuous round of love-making and Champagne-drinking, to judge from the following 'catch,' sung by four merry gentlemen at a period when, according to Redding, ten thousand tuns of French wine were annually pouring into England: 'The pleasures of love and the joys of good wine, To perfect our happiness, wisely we join; We to Beauty all day Give the sovereign sway, And her favourite nymphs devoutly obey. At the plays we are constantly making our court, And when they are ended we follow the sport To the Mall and the Park, Where we love till 'tis dark; Then sparkling Champaign[272] Puts an end to their reign; It quickly recovers Poor languishing lovers; Makes us frolic and gay, and drowns all our sorrow; But, alas, we relapse again on the morrow.'[273] [Illustration] We learn, indeed, that under the influence of 'powerful Champaign, as they call it, a spark can no more refrain running into love than a drunken country vicar can avoid disputing of religion when his patron's ale grows stronger than his reason.'[274] Probably it was owing to this quality of inspiring a tendency to amativeness that ladies were sometimes expected to join in such potations. 'She's no mistress of mine That drinks not her wine, Or frowns at my friends' drinking motions; If my heart thou wouldst gain, Drink thy flask of Champaign; 'Twill serve thee for paint and love-potions,'[275] is the sentiment enunciated in chorus by four half-fuddled topers in the New Spring Gardens. At the Mulberry Gardens we find that 'Jack Wildish sent for a dozen more Champaign, and a brace of such girls as we should have made honourable love to in any other place.'[276] With such manners and customs can we wonder at one gentleman complaining how another 'came where I was last night roaring drunk; swore--d--him!--he had been with my Lord Such-a-one, and had swallowed three quarts of Champaign for his share;'[277] or have any call to feel surprised that such boon companions should 'come, as the sparks do, to a playhouse too full of Champaign, venting very much noise and very little wit'?[278]