To Bacchus they banket, no feast is festiuall, They chide and they chat, they vary and they brall, They rayle and they route, they reuell and they crye, Laughing and leaping, and making cuppes drye. What, stint thou thy chat, these wordes I defye, It is to a vilayne rebuke and vilany. Such rurall solace so plainly for to blame, Thy wordes sound to thy rebuke and shame." Football is described in a lively picture:-- "They get the bladder and blowe it great and thin, With many beanes or peason put within, It ratleth, soundeth, and shineth clere and fayre, While it is throwen and caste vp in the ayre, Eche one contendeth and hath a great delite, With foote and with hande the bladder for to smite, If it fall to grounde they lifte it vp agayne, This wise to labour they count it for no payne, Renning and leaping they driue away the colde, The sturdie plowmen lustie, stronge and bolde, Ouercommeth the winter with driuing the foote ball, Forgetting labour and many a greuous fall." A shepherd, after mentioning his skill in shooting birds with a bow, says:-- "No shepheard throweth the axeltrie so farre." A gallant is thus described:-- "For women vse to loue them moste of all, Which boldly bosteth, or that can sing and iet, Which are well decked with large bushes set, Which hath the mastery ofte time in tournament, Or that can gambauld, or daunce feat and gent." The following sorts of wine are mentioned:-- "As Muscadell, Caprike, Romney, and Maluesy, From Gene brought, from Grece or Hungary." As are the dainties of the table. A shepherd at court must not think to eat, "Swanne, nor heron, Curlewe, nor crane, but course beefe and mutton." Again: "What fishe is of sauor swete and delicious,-- Rosted or sodden in swete hearbes or wine; Or fried in oyle, most saporous and fine.-- The pasties of a hart.-- The crane, the fesant, the pecocke and curlewe, The partriche, plouer, bittor, and heronsewe-- Seasoned so well in licour redolent, That the hall is full of pleasaunt smell and sent." At a feast at court:-- "Slowe be the seruers in seruing in alway, But swift be they after, taking thy meate away; A speciall custome is vsed them among, No good dish to suffer on borde to be longe: If the dishe be pleasaunt, eyther fleshe or fishe, Ten handes at once swarme in the dishe: And if it be flesh ten kniues shalt thou see Mangling the flesh, and in the platter flee: To put there thy handes is perill without fayle, Without a gauntlet or els a gloue of mayle." "The two last lines remind us of a saying of Quin, who declared it was not safe to sit down to a turtle-feast in one of the city-halls, without a basket-hilted knife and fork. Not that I suppose Quin borrowed his bon-mots from black letter books." (Warton.) The following lines point out some of the festive tales of our ancestors:--