Derby had as early as the sixteenth century a great reputation for its ales. Sir Lionel Rash, in _Green’s Tu Quoque_, an Elizabethan comedy, says: “I have sent my daughter this morning as far as Pimlico to fetch a draught of Derby Ale, that it may fetch a colour into her cheeks.” Fuller, in his _Worthies of England_, with an evident conservative taste for ale, that “authenticall drinke of old England,” mentions the repute of Derby ale with some circumlocution, but with no stinted praise. “Ceres being our English Bacchus,” he remarks, “this was our ancestors’ common drink, many imputing the strength of their Infantry (in drawing so stiff a bow) to their constant (but moderate) drinking thereof. Yea, now the English begin to turn to Ale (may they in due time regain their former vigorousnesse) and whereas in our remembrance, Ale went out when swallows came in, seldom appearing after Easter; it now hopeth (having climbed up May Hill) to continue its course all the year. Yet have we lost the Preservative, what ever it was, which (before Hops were found out) made it last so long in our land some two hundred years since, for half a year at least after the brewing thereof; otherwise of necessity they must brew every day, yea pour it out of the Kive into the Cup, if the prodigious English Hospitality in former ages be considered, with the multitude of menial servants and strangers entertained. Now never was the wine of Sarepta better known to the Syrians, that of Chios to the Grecians, of Phalernum to the Latines, than the Canary of Derby is to the English thereabout.”
Manchester at about the same period seems to have had a great assortment of Ales and Beers, if we are to believe Taylor, who, in his _Pennyless Pilgrimage_, tells
How men of Manchester did use me well, * * * * * We went into the house of one John Pinners (A man that lives among a crew of sinners) And there eight severall sorts of Ale we had, All able to make one starke drunke or mad. { 163} But I with courage bravely flinched not, And gave the Towne leave to discharge the shot, We had at one time set upon the table, Good Ale of Hisope, ’twas not Esope fable: Then had we Ale of Sage, and Ale of Malt, And Ale of Woorme-wood, that could make one halt, With Ale of Rosemary, and Bettony, And two Ales more, or else I needs must lye. But to conclude this drinking Alye tale, We had a sort of Ale called scurvy Ale.