A drunkard is a known adjective, for he cannot stand alone by himself;
yet in his greatest weakness a great trier of strength, whether health
or sickness will have the upper hand in a surfeit. He is a spectacle of
deformity and a shame of humanity, a view of sin and a grief of nature.
He is the annoyance of modesty and the trouble of civility, the spoil of
wealth and the spite of reason. He is only the brewer's agent and the
alehouse benefactor, the beggar's companion and the constable's trouble.
He is his wife's woe, his children's sorrow, his neighbours' scoff, and
his own shame. In sum, he is a tub of swill, a spirit of sleep, a
picture of a beast, and a monster of a man.