diary livejournal fossils
Nor have we one or two kind of drunkards only, but eight kinds. The first is ape drunk, and he leaps and sings and hollers and danceth for the heavens. The second is lion drunk, and he flings the pots about the house, calls his hostess whore, breaks the glass windows with his dagger and is apt to quarrel with any man that speaks to him. The third is swine drunk - heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for a little more drink and a few more clothes. The fourth is sheep drunk, wise in his own conceit when he cannot bring forth the right word. The fifth is maudlin drunk, when a fellow will weep for kindness in the midst of his ale and kiss you, saying "By God, Captain, I love thee; go thy ways, thou dost not think so often of me as I do of thee. I would, if it pleased God, I could not love thee so well as I do" - and then he puts his finger in his eye and cries. The sixth is martin drunk, when a man is drunk and drinks himself sober ere he stir. The seventh is goat drunk, when in his drunkenness he hath no mind but on lechery. The eighth is fox drunk, when he is crafty drunk as many of the Dutchmen be... - Thomas Nashe, 1592
I don’t think I’m a fox drunk. I think I am a sheep, most likely, and my dad is lion or martin. It makes me wonder if part of my interest in such subjects is due to growing up around him and my mom, who used to be a swine drunk, with her wine and her books.
Edit: Of course, I don’t mean either of those things I said about my parents as insulting. I just tried to fit them into Nashe’s categories