The lady, whose tall hat and large white frill appear upon the next page, went by the unpleasant name of Mother Louse. She is mentioned by Anthony Wood, in 1673, as an ale-wife of Hedington Hill, and was supposed to be the last woman who wore a ruff in England. The verses under the engraving indicate that the dun hat and ruff had gone out of vogue, and were objects of merriment.
From the _Accounts of the Lord Treasurer of Scotland_ (fifteenth century) it may be gathered that the customs and regulations respecting the brewing and sale of ale were much the same in Scotland as in this country. The price of ale was fixed from time to time “efter the imposicioune of the worthi men of the toune,” who regulated it according to the price of malt. “Browster wives” brewed the greater part of the ale, and kept most of the ale-houses. Their ale was frequently made from a barley and oat malt, as was the practice in England at the same date. As in this country, the lack of piquant flavour, afterwards supplied by the hop, was in those days compensated by the addition of ginger, pepper, spices, and aromatic herbs. Though the use of hops spread but slowly into Scotland, a considerable import trade in beer (hopped ale) was carried on with Germany. In 1455 the accounts already quoted show a payment for German beer supplied to the garrison at Dunbar. Some curious entries also appear for the years 1497–8: “Item, to Andrew Bertoune, for ten pipe of cider and beir, the price of all IX li; item, for _aill that the Kinges horse drank_, viiijd.; item, for the King’s ships, xij barrellis of ail; for ilk barrell xiiijs. iiijd.”
[Illustration: Mother Louſe of Louſe Hall, near Oxford.
An Alewife at Hedington Hill (1678) mentioned by Anthony Wood. Probably the laſt woman in England who wore a ruff.
You laugh now Goodman two ſhoes, but at what? My Grove, my Manſion Houſe, or my dun Hat; Is it for that my loving Chin and Snout Are met, becauſe my Teeth are fallen out; Is it at me, or at my Ruff you titter; Your Grandmother, you Rouge, nere wore a fitter. Is it at Forehead’s Wrinkle, or Cheeks’ Furrow, Or at my Mouth, ſo like a Coney Borrough, Or at thoſe Orient Eyes that nere ſhed tear But when the Exciſemen come, that’s twice a year. Kiſs me and tell me true, and when they fail, Thou ſhalt have larger potts and ſtronger Ale. ]