There was a curious custom in vogue at the beginning of the seventeenth century known as “muggling.” It was thus described by Young, in _England’s Bane_: “I have seen a company amongst the very woods and forests drinking for a muggle. Sixe determined to try their strengths who could drinke most glasses for the muggle. The first drinkes a glasse of a pint, the second two, the next three, and so every one multiplieth till the last taketh sixe. Then the first beginneth againe and taketh seven, and in this manner they drinke thrice a peece round, every man taking a glasse more than his fellow, so that he that dranke least, which was the first, dranke one and twenty pints, and the sixth man thirty-six.” So great was the ale-drinking at this time, that the headache brought on by it was known by the common expression, “the ale passion,” and one in liquor was said to have been “kicked by the brewer’s horse.” One or two instances, only, of the drinking songs popular in olden times can be given here. The _Merry Fellows_, a song of the Restoration, well illustrates the old idea that merriness must be accompanied with potations “pottle deep”:— Now, since we’re met, let’s merry, merry be, In spite of all our foes; And he that will not merry be, We’ll pull him by the nose. _Chorus._ Let him be merry, merry there, While we’re all merry, merry here; For who can know where he shall go, To be merry another year. {291} He that will not merry, merry be, With a generous bowl and a toast, May he in Bridewell be shut up, And fast bound to a post. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be, And take his glass in course, May he be obliged to drink small beer, Ne’er a penny in his purse. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be With a company of jolly boys, May he be plagued with a scolding wife To confound him with her noise. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be, With his sweetheart by his side, Let him be laid in the cold church-yard With a head-stone for his bride. Let him, &c. Cobblers have already been mentioned as devotees of strong malt drinks, and many a cozier’s catch celebrates this propensity. Here is one:— Come, sit we here by the fire-side, And roundly drink we here, Till that we see our cheeks ale-dyed, And noses tanned with beer. Shoemakers and cobblers used to call a red-herring a pheasant, and in the same inflated style term half a pint of beer half a gallon, and a pint of beer a gallon, much after the manner of Caleb Balderstone in _The Bride of Lammermoor_. Tinkers, too, swore by Ceres and not by Bacchus, as Herrick shows in his _Tinker’s Song_. Along, come along, Let’s meet in a throng Here of tinkers; {292} And quaff up a bowl, As big as a cowl, To beer-drinkers.