Here you have the Substance of the Evidence given in against him on his Trial, with the Names of the Judges, Jury, and Witnesses. Also the Comical Defence Sir _John_ makes for himself, and the Character given him by some of his Neighbours, namely, _Hewson_ the Cobbler, an honest friend of Sir John’s, who is entomb’d as a _Memorandum_, at the _Two Brewers_ in _East Smithfield_. _Taken in Short Hand by_ Thomas Tosspott, _Foreman of the Jury_.” [Illustration] One of the witnesses, hight Mistress _Full-Pot_, the hostess, called in his defence, thus winds up her evidence,— “Nay, I beseech you, give me leave to speak to you; if you put him to Death, all _England_ is undone, for there is not such another in the Land that can do as he can do, and hath done; for he can make a Cripple to go, he can make a Coward to fight with a valiant Soldier, nay, he can make a good Soldier feel neither Hunger or Cold. Besides, for Valour in himself, there are few that can encounter with him, for he can pull down the strongest Man in the World, and lay him fast asleep.” Of course, the jury found a verdict of _Not Guilty_. Beer has a large literature of its own, principally metrical, but this has pretty well been collected in two books—_The Curiosities of Ale and Beer_, by John Bickerdyke; and _In Praise of Ale_, by W. T. Marchant—either of which would be a valuable addition to any one’s library. Yet in neither of them is met with Ned Ward’s “_Dialogue between Claret and Darby Ale_,” published 1691, in which each of the drinks speak for themselves; and, of course, the arguments of ale are all potent over his antagonist. Space will only allow of a very short extract. “_Darby._—I’m glad to know you, High and Mighty _Sir_; Think you your pompous empty Name could stir My Choler? No, your Title makes me fear As much as if you’d been _Six Shilling Beer_. _Claret._—Thou _Son of Earth_, thou dull insipid thing, To level me, who am of Liquors _King_, With lean _Small Beer_, but that thou art not worth My Anger, else I’de frown thee into Earth. _Darby._—I neither fear your Frown, nor court your Smile; But, if I’m not mistaken all this while, By other names than Claret you are known— _Claret._—You do not hear me, Sir, the Fact disown, Some call me _Barcelona_, some _Navar_, Some _Syracuse_, but at the Vintner’s Bar _My_ name’s _Red Port_. But call me what they will, _Claret_ I am, and will be Claret still,” etc., etc. [Illustration] Not content with praising the liquor ale, our ancestors fell to eulogising the vessels used for its consumption, and the “Black Jack” and “Leather Bottel” both came in for their meed of praise. Sketches of a fine example of each are here given, taken from the national collection in the British Museum.