Sack’s drink for our masters, All may be Ale-tasters, Good things the more common the better, Sack’s but single broth, Ale’s meat, drinke, and cloathe, Say they that know never a letter. But not to entangle Old friends till they wrangle And quarrell for other men’s pleasure; Let Ale keep his place, And let Sack have his grace, So that neither exceed the due measure. “Wine is but single broth, ale is meat, drink and cloth,” was a proverbial saying in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and occurs in many writings, both prose and poetical. John Taylor, for instance, writes that ale is the “warmest lining of a naked man’s coat.” “Barley broth” and “oyle of barley” were very common expressions for ale. “Dagger ale” was very strong malt liquor. The word “ale-tasters” will be fully explained later on. {10} The nearest approach in modern times to a denunciation of wine by an ale-favouring poet occurs in a few lines—by whom written we know not—cleverly satirising the introduction of cheap French wines into this country. Cheap clarets command, thanks to an eminent statesman, a considerable share of popular favour. If unadulterated, they are no doubt wholesome enough, and suitable for some specially constituted persons. Let those who like them drink them, by all means. MALT LIQUOR, OR CHEAP FRENCH WINES. No ale or beer, says Gladstone, we should drink, Because they stupefy and dull our brains. But sour French wine, as other people think, Our English stomachs often sorely pains. The question then is which we most should dread, An _aching belly_ or an _aching head_? Among famous ale songs of the past, _Jolly Good Ale and Old_, which has been wrongly attributed to Bishop Still, stands pre-eminent. Of the eight double stanzas composing the song, four were incorporated in “a ryght pithy, plesaunt, and merie comedie, intytuled, _Gammer Gurton’s Nedle_, played on stage not longe ago, in Christe’s Colledge, in Cambridge. Made by Mr. S——, Master of Art” (1575). According to Dyer, who possessed a MS., giving the song in its complete form, “it is certainly of an earlier date,” and could not have been by Mr. Still (afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells), the Master of Trinity College, who was probably the writer of the play. The “merrie comedie” well illustrates the difference of tone and thought which divides those days from the present, and it is a little difficult to understand how it could have been produced by the pen of a High Church dignitary. The prologue of the play is very quaint, it runs thus:— PROLOGUE.