Mar.  Most unkind Daniel, to speak such biting things of me!

Fran.  See—­if he hath not brought tears into the poor fellow’s eyes with the saltness of his rebuke.

Dan.  No offence, brother Martin—­I meant none.  ’Tis true, Heaven gives gifts, and withholds them.  It has been pleased to bestow upon me a nimble invention to the manufacture of a jest; and upon thee, Martin, an indifferent bad capacity to understand my meaning.

Mar.  Is that all?  I am content.  Here’s my hand.

Fran.  Well, I like a little innocent mirth myself, but never could endure bawdry.

Dan. Quot homines tot sententiae.

Mar.  And what is that?

Dan.  ’Tis Greek, and argues difference of opinion.

Mar.  I hope there is none between us.

Dan.  Here’s to thee, brother Martin. (Drinks.)

Mar.  And to thee, Daniel. (Drinks.)

Fran.  And to thee, Peter. (Drinks.)

Peter.  Thank you, Francis.  And here’s to thee. (Drinks.)

Mar.  I shall be fuddled anon.

Dan.  And drunkenness I hold to be a very despicable vice.

All.  O! a shocking vice. (They drink round.)

Peter.  In as much as it taketh away the understanding.

Dan.  And makes the eyes red.

Peter.  And the tongue to stammer.

Dan.  And to blab out secrets.

[During this conversation they continue drinking.

Peter.  Some men do not know an enemy from a friend when they are drunk.

Dan.  Certainly sobriety is the health of the soul.

Mar.  Now I know I am going to be drunk.

Dan.  How canst tell, dry-bones?

Mar.  Because I begin to be melancholy.  That’s always a sign.

Fran.  Take care of Martin, he’ll topple off his seat else.
                                          [MARTIN drops asleep.

Peter.  Times are greatly altered, since young master took upon himself the government of this household.

All.  Greatly altered.

Fran.  I think everything be altered for the better since His Majesty’s blessed restoration.

Peter.  In Sir Walter’s days there was no encouragement given to good housekeeping.

All.  None.

Dan.  For instance, no possibility of getting drunk before two in the afternoon.

Peter.  Every man his allowance of ale at breakfast—­his quart!

All.  A quart!! [In derision.

Dan.  Nothing left to our own sweet discretions.

Peter.  Whereby it may appear, we were treated more like beasts than what we were—­discreet and reasonable serving-men.