Coming to the Hanoverian period, if George II. reflected little dignity on the throne, he is said to have been over his punch a cheerful and sometimes an amusing companion. Despite his inordinate love of women, he was always temperate, whereby, says Lord Waldegrave, he was preserved from many of the infirmities of old age. George III., too, was most abstemious, and a story is told that, on his visit to Worcester in 1788, the Mayor, knowing that his Majesty never took drink before dinner, asked him if he would be pleased to take a jelly; whereupon the King replied, “I do not recollect drinking a glass of wine before dinner in my life, yet upon this pleasing occasion I will venture.” A glass of rich old _Mountain_ was served, when his Majesty immediately drank “Prosperity to the Corporation and Citizens of Worcester.” That the King continued to adhere to his rigid habit may be illustrated by an incident which happened twelve years afterwards. One morning, when visiting his stables, he heard this conversation between the grooms: “I don’t care what you say, Robert, but every one agrees that the man at the Three Tuns makes the best purl in Windsor.” “Purl, purl!” said the King promptly. “Robert, what’s purl?” Which on his Majesty being informed was warm beer with a glass of gin, caused him to add, “I daresay, very good drink, but too strong for the morning; never drink in the morning.” But George IV. was the opposite of his predecessor, for intemperance, as it has been said, was a feature of his moral career, a proclivity which Huish informs us very nearly cost him dear while yet a youth.[22] At a dinner-party at Lord Chesterfield’s house at Blackheath, the guests drank to excess and engaged in riotous frolic. One of the company “let loose a big fierce dog, which at once flew at a footman, tore one of his arms terribly, and nearly strangled a horse. The whole party now formed themselves into a compact body and assailed Towzer, who had just caught hold of the skirts of the coat of his Royal Highness, when one of the guests felled the dog to the ground. In the confusion the Earl of Chesterfield tumbled down the steps leading to his house, and severely injured the back of his head. The Prince, who scarcely knew whether he had been fighting a dog or a man, jumped into his phaeton and there fell asleep, leaving the reins to his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, who drove him safely to town.”