_Lovel_. I marvel why the poets, who, of all men, methinks, should possess the hottest livers, and most empyreal fancies, should affect to see such virtues in cold water. _Gray_. Virtue in cold water! ha! ha! ha! _John_. Because your poet-born hath an internal wine, richer than lippara or canaries, yet uncrushed from any grapes of earth, unpressed in mortal wine-presses. 3_rd Gent_. What may be the name of this wine? _John_. It hath as many names as qualities. It is denominated indifferently, wit, conceit, invention, inspiration, but its most royal and comprehensive name is _fancy_. 3_rd Gent_. And where keeps he this sovereign liquor? _John_. Its cellars are in the brain, whence your true poet deriveth intoxication at will; while his animal spirits, catching a pride from the quality and neighborhood of their noble relative, the brain, refuse to be sustained by wines and fermentations of earth. 3_rd Gent_. But is your poet-born always tipsy with this liquor? _John_. He hath his stoopings and reposes; but his proper element is the sky, and in the suburbs of the empyrean. 3_rd Gent_. Is your wine-intellectual so exquisite? henceforth, I, a man of plain conceit, will, in all humility, content my mind with canaries. 4_th Gent_. I am for a song or a catch. When will the catches come on, the sweet wicked catches? _John_. They cannot be introduced with propriety before midnight. Every man must commit his twenty bumpers first. We are not yet well roused. Frank Lovel, the glass stands with you. _Lovel_. Gentlemen, the Duke. (_Fills_.) _All_. The Duke. (_They drink_.) _Gray_. Can any tell, why his Grace, being a Papist-- _John_. Pshaw! we will have no questions of state now. Is not this his Majesty's birthday? _Gray_. What follows? _John_. That every man should sing, and be joyful, and ask no questions. 2_nd Gent_. Damn politics, they spoil drinking. 3_rd Gent_. For certain, 'tis a blessed monarchy. 2_nd Gent_. The cursed fanatic days we have seen! The times have been when swearing was out of fashion. 3_rd Gent_. And drinking. 1_st Gent_. And wenching. _Gray_. The cursed yeas and forsooths, which we have heard uttered, when a man could not rap out an innocent oath, but straight the air was thought to be infected. _Lovel_. 'Twas a pleasant trick of the saint, which that trim puritan _Swear-not-at-all Smooth-speech_ used, when his spouse chid him with an oath for committing with his servant-maid, to cause his house to be fumigated with burnt brandy, and ends of scripture, to disperse the devil's breath, as he termed it. _All_. Ha! ha! ha! _Gray_. But 'twas pleasanter, when the other saint _Resist-the-devil-and-he-will-flee-from-thee Pureman_ was overtaken in the act, to plead an illusio visûs, and maintain his sanctity upon a supposed power in the adversary to counterfeit the shapes of things. _All_. Ha! ha! ha!