Gives him a nod, and speaks him thus, Hold brother, I know your intent, That's no dispute convenient For this same place, truths seldome find Acceptance here, they'r more confin'd To _Taverns_ and to _Ale-house_ liquor, Where men do vent their minds more quicker If that may for a truth but pass What's said, _In vino veritas_. With that up starts the _Country Clown_, And stares about with threatening frown. As if he would even eat them all up. Then bids the boy run quick and call up, A _Constable_, for he has reason To fear their Latin may be _treason_ But straight they all call what's to pay, Lay't down, and march each several way. THE COMPANY At th' other table sits a Knight, And here _a grave old man_ ore right Against his _worship_, then perhaps That _by_ and _by_ a _Drawer_ claps His bum close by them, there down squats _A dealer in old shoes and hats_; And here withouten any panick Fear, dread or care a bold _Mechanick_. HEIR DISCOURSE The _Knight_ (because he's so) he prates Of matters far beyond their pates. _The grave old man_ he makes a bustle, And his wise sentence in must justle. Up starts th' _Apprentice boy_ and he Says boldly so and so't must be. _The dealer in old shoes to_ utter His saying too makes no small sputter. Then comes the pert _mechanick blade_, And contradicts what all have said. * * * * * There by the fier-side doth sit, One freezing in an _Ague_ fit. Another poking in't with th' tongs, Still ready to cough up his lungs Here sitteth one that's melancolick, And there one singing in a frolick. Each one hath such a prety gesture, At Smithfield fair would yield a tester. Boy reach a pipe cries he that shakes, The songster no Tobacco takes, Says he who coughs, nor do I smoak, Then _Monsieur Mopus_ turns his cloak Off from his face, and with a grave Majestick beck his pipe doth crave. They load their guns and fall a smoaking Whilst he who coughs sits by a choaking, Till he no longer can abide. And so removes from th' fier side. Now all this while none calls to drink, Which makes the _Coffee boy_ to think Much they his pots should so enclose, He cannot pass but tread on toes. With that as he the _Nectar_ fills From pot to pot, some on't he spills Upon the _Songster_. Oh cries he. Pox, what dost do? thou'st burnt my knee; No says the boy, (to make a bald And blind excuse.) _Sir 'twill not scald_. With that the man lends him a cuff O' th' ear, and whips away in snuff. The other two, their pipes being out, Says _Monsieur Mopus_ I much doubt My friend I wait for will not come, But if he do, say I'm gone home. Then says the _Aguish man_ I must come According to my wonted custome, To give ye' a visit, although now I dare not drink, and so _adieu_. The boy replies, O Sir, however You'r very welcome, we do never Our _Candles_, _Pipes_ or _Fier_ grutch To daily customers and such, They'r _Company_ (without expence,) For that's sufficient recompence. Here at a table all alone,