And in very deed, the hops but a weed Brought over ’gainst law, and here set to sale, Would the law were removed, and no more Beer brewed, But all good men betake them to a pot of good ale. * * * * * But to speak of killing, that am I not willing, For that in a manner were but to rail, But Beer hath its name ’cause it brings to the Bier, Therefore well fare, say I, to a pot of good ale. Too many, I wis, with their deaths proved this, And therefore (if ancient records do not fail) He that first brewed the hop, was rewarded with a rope, And found his Beer far more bitter than Ale. {72} The ale-wives and brewers, however, were wiser than their customers, and, induced also by the fact that their hopped ale went not sour as of yore, stuck to their colours—nailed to a hop pole no doubt—and slowly but surely educated the taste of the people. It was, however, a long process. Henry, in his _History of England_, vol. 6, referring to the Scottish diet about the end of the sixteenth century, writes:— “_Ale_ and gascony wines were the principal liquors; but mead, cyder, and perry were not uncommon. Hops were still scarce, and seldom employed in _Ale_, which was brewed therefore in small quantities, to be drunk while new. At the King’s table _Ale_ was prohibited as unfit for use till _five days old_.” From a whimsical old book, entitled _Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco, a dialogue_, in which the two leading malt liquors of the day (1630) converse, and give their own views on the subject, it appears that even as late as the seventeenth century beer was little known in country districts, though popular in London. Beer is introduced making a pun on his own name; he says to Wine, “Beere leave, sir.” The chief points in Ale’s argument, which is better than that of any of the others, are contained in the following passage:—“You, Wine and Beer, are fain to take up a corner anywhere—your ambition goes no farther than a cellar; the whole house where I am goes by my name, and is called Ale-house. Who ever heard of a Wine-house, or a Beer-house? My name, too, is, of a stately etymology—you must bring forth your latin. Ale, so please you, from alo, which signifieth nourish—I am the choicest and most luscious of potations.” Wine, Beer, and Ale at last compose their differences, each having a certain dominion assigned to him, and join in singing these lines:— Wine.—I, generous Wine am for the court. Beer.—The citie call for Beere. Ale.—But Ale, bonnie Ale, like a lord of the soile. In the country shall domineere. Chorus.—Then let us be merry, wash sorry away, Wine, Beer and Ale shall be drunk this day.