In Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, the Bell Inn at Waltham is taken to be a castle, Act II, Scene VI.

George: I would we had a mess of pottage and a pot of drink, squire, and were going to bed!

Tim: Why, we are at Waltham town's end, and that's the Bell Inn.

George: Take courage, valiant knight, damsel, and squire, / I have discovered, not a stone's cast off, / An ancient castle, held by the old knight / Of the most holy order of the Bell, / Who gives to all knights-errant entertain: / There plenty is of food, and all prepared / By the white hands of his own lady dear. / He hath three squires that welcome all his guests: / The first, hight Chamberlino, who will see / Our beds prepared, and bring us snowy sheets, / Where never footman stretched his buttered hams; / The second, hight Tapstero, who will see / Our pots full filled, and no froth therein; / The third, a gentle squire, Ostlero hight, / Who will our palfreys slick with wisps of straw, / And in the manger put them oats enough, / And never grease their teeth with candle-snuff.

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William Harrison

Those townes that we call thorowfaires have great and sumptuous innes builded in them, for the receiving of such travellers and strangers as passe to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like that of some other countries, in which the host or goodman of the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authorities over his ghests, but cleane otherwise, with everie man may use his inne as his owne house in England, and have for his monie how great or how little varietie of vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke expedient to call for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with naperie.. bedding and tapisterie especiallie with naperie: for beside the linnen used at the tables, which is commonlice washed dailie, is such and so much as belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest. Ech commer is sure to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since they came from the landresse. . . . If the traveller have an horsse, his bed dooth cost him nothing, but if he go on foot he is sure to paie a penie for the same: but whether he be horsseman or footman if his chamber be once appointed he may carie the kaie with him, as of his owne house so long as he lodgeth there. If he loose oughts whilest he abideth in the inne, the host is bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that there is no greater securitie anie where for travellers than in the gretest ins of England. Their horsses in like sort are walked, dressed, and looked unto by certeine hostelers or hired servants, appointed at the charges of the goodman of the house, who in hope of extraordinarie reward will deale verie diligentlie after outward appearance in this their function and calling. Herein neverthelesse are manie of them blameworthie in that they doo ... deceive the beast oftentimes of his allowance by sundrie meanes...

Later on he describes the pride that landlords take in their inns and the lengths they go to in order to attract custom:

. . . it is a world to see how ech owner, of them contendeth with other for goodnesse of interteinement of their ghests, as about finesse & change of linnen, furniture of bedding, beautie of roomes, service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, varietie of wines, or well using of horsses. Finallie there is not so much omitted among them as the gorgeousnes of their verie signes at their doores, wherein some doo consume thirtie of fortie pounds, a meere vanitie in mine opinion, but so vaine will they needs be, and that no onelie to give some outward token of the inne keepers welth, but also to procure good ghests to the frequenting of their houses in hope there to be well used.

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Fynes Moryson

The world affords not such Inns as England hath, either for good and cheap entertainments at the guest's own pleasure, or for humble attendance on passengers.... For as soon as a passenger comes to an Inn the servants run to him, and one takes his horse and walks him till he be cold, then rubs him and gives him meat, yet I must say they are not much to be trusted in this last point without the eye of the master or his servant to oversee them. Another servant gives the passenger his private chamber and kindles his fire, the third pulls off his boots and makes them clean. The Host or Hostess visits him, and if he will eat with the Host, or at a common table with others, his meal will cost him sixpence, or in some places but fourpence (yet this course is less honourable, and not used by gentlemen): but if he will eat in his chamber, he commands what meat he will according to his appetite, and as much as he thinks fit for him and his company, yea, the kitchen is open to him to command the meat to be dressed as he best likes: and when he sits at table, the Host or Hostess will accompany him, or if they have many guests will at least visit him, taking it for courtesy to be bid sit down: while he eats, if he have company especially, he shall be offered music, which he may freely take or refuse and if he be solitary, the Musicians will give him the good day with music in the morning.

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Mein Host

In general the Host of any fictional establishment was not given the most flattering representation, despite the numerous skills needed to run such places. A hostelry was also one of the few places where women were in charge. The Taming of the Shrew opens with the landlady evicting Christopher Sly - she cannot be 'tamed' in the same way that Kate can. Ironically, Sly asks that she refer to another alewife to vouchsafe his credentials (as a waster). But of course a woman in a drinking establishment was always open to the charge of being something of a harlot. Mistress Quickly cannot avoid the slur.

The landlord was also under suspicion (and sometimes with good cause). In John Marston's The Dutch Courtesan (1605) Mulligrub is greeted as the stock, cheating landlord - ‘Nay, comfort, my good host Shark, my good Mulligrub', and supplemented with ‘most hardly-honest Mulligrub' and ‘my most sharking Mulligrub'. Philip Massinger's A New Way to Pay Old Debts (1625) also opens with abuse directed at the keeper of a drinking establishment, Tapwell. But Tapwell is allowed to give as good as he gets in his reply to the dissolute ‘gentleman'. The presents us with Sir Giles Overreach - ‘a cruel extortioner' - a portrayal of the real-life abuser of the monopoly on drinking-house licences - yet another factor hosts would have to contend with. Even the host who lent his name to the generic 'landlord', Bonniface in The Beaux Stratagem, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, is represented as something of a crook. But the most damning picture drawn is by Francis Osborn in 'A Character of an Host':

An Host is one who Thrives with Drinking, and growes Rich by Entertainments. He is one of vast Acquaintance, but can number Few Friends: besides Those resulting from Travaile, or Necessity. His Conversation is alike to All men, that he may gain the more Money. Being, equally Hospitable, to every Religion he can save by. Giving his Guest the best Content or'e Night, out of hope to please himself in the morning. The Government of his house is Tyrannicall, all Taxes being Arbitrary, at the will of his Wife, who sits Regent in the Kitchin. Yet every one that enters, takes his Chamber, for the time he stays, as his own, With no lesse assurance, then Don Quixot did the whole Mansion, for an Enchanted Castle. He ventures, that reason he hath, in all Companyes. And in Defiance of any Drink the weary Travelour pleaseth to call for, which if said to be mingled, or adulterate, He calls the Name of God, and the person of the Drawer to attest the Contrary. The Signe is the Scheme, by which, you may take the Ascendant of his Understanding. And his Half-peck, the Measure of his Conscience; of which his Osteler is Chancellor, and keeps the Key: Making no more of Cheating a Strangers Horse, then his Mistresse doth in Over-reaching both. If her Husband be grown into his perfect symmetry, his Belly bears the exact proportion, of the biggest Jugg. And his Face of That, in the First Edition of Frier Bacon's Works. He suits his Discourse, as Fidlers do their Songs, to the Eares of the Hearers: choosing rather to offend Truth, then his Company. And, in case, any ride double, he proclaims for Man and Wife; as far more willing to foment Bawdry, then foule two pair of sheets. He is seldome far out of the way, though Drunk or Hang'd: The First, being as neer the Road of his Profession, as the Latter is that of his Desert.

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Thomas Young's Englands Bane: or, the Description of Drunkenness (London, 1617) is a compendium of examples from the classics and the Bible warning against drunkenness. In his dedication he acknowledges his own less than pristine youth of intemperance, 'chiefe fountaine of all mens perturbations' and thanks his benefactor (Francis Dowse) for his good advice, 'that I should loathe excess, and love temperance'. It was a commonplace cry that drunkenness was the source of all other sins. In this extract, Young lists all the different types of drunkard, partly drawing on humour psychology. His list is similar to that of Nashe's in Pierce Penniless, but taken a little further.

But letting carowfers alone with their own definition, because a Drunkard cannot be expressed without some division wee will (before wee enter thereunto set downe a learned. mans description, who saith, A Drunkard is the annoyance of modestie, the trouble of civilitie, the spoile of wealth, the destruction of Reason, he is onely the Brewars agent, the Alehouse benefactor, the Beggars companion, the Cosntables trouble, hee is his wives wove, his Childrens sorrow, his Neighbours scoffe, his owne shame, in some: hee is a tub of swill, a spirit of sleepe, a picture of a Beast, a Monster of a man. But no concerning the division, thre are of Drunkards nine sorts. The first is Lyon drunke, which breakse glasse windowes, clas his Hostesse Whoore, strikes, fights or quarrels, with either Brother, Friend or Father. The second is Ape-drunke, who dances, capers, and leapes about the house, sings and rejoyces, and is wholly ravisht into jests, mirth and melodie. The third is sheepe drunke, who is very kinde and liberall, and sayes, by God captaine I love you? Goe thy wayes, thou thinkest not so often of mee, as I doe of thee, and in this sheepish humour gives away his Horse, his Sword, the clothes off his backe. The fourth is Sow drunke, who vomits, spewes, and wallowes in the mire, like a Swine, and seeing the Moone shine, sayes, put out the Candle lets goe to bed, lay a little more on the feete and all is well. The fift is Foxe drunke, who being of a dull spirit will make no bargaine till hee hath sharpened his wit with the essence of good liquor, and is thcn so craftie and politique, that hee deceives any man that shall deale with him: of this nature are many of the Dutch-men, that when they drinke most, they bargaine best. The sixt is Maudlin drunke, who weepes, cryes, and whines, to see the goose go barefoote. The seventh is Goate drunke, who is in his drinke so lecherous that hee makes no difference of either time, or place, age or youth, but cryes out a Whoore, a Whoore, ten pound for a Whoore. The eight is Martin drunke, which will bee drunke betimes in the morning, or alwayes the first in the company, yet will he never cease drinking, till he hath made himselfe fresh againe. The ninth and last is Bat drunke, which are a sort of Drunkards that will not openly be seen in such actions, but as the reremowse or Bat, delights in secret places and flie by night: so they will drinke privately, and chiefely in the night: of this sort may be some of your damask coated Citizen, that sit in their shops both forenoone & afternoonc, looke more sowerly on their poore neighbours, then if they had drunnke a quart of Vinegar at a draught, yet at night sneake out of their doores and slip into a Taverne, where either alone, or with some other that battles their money together, they so plye themselves with peny pots, (which like small shot) goe of powring into their fat pauncehs, that at length they have not an eye to see with all, nor a good legge to stand on, and on this sort are many hypocritical professors which abuse sacred Religion, carrying the day times Bibles under their armes, but in the night they slip into Alehouse or Tavernes.

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The Humours

Sanguine (ape-drunk)

blood/hot and moist/air/Venus - He is large, plenteous, attempered, amiable, abundant in nature, merry, singing, laughing, liking, ruddy and gracious. He hath his wine of the APE: more he drinketh the merrier he is and draweth to women, and naturally loveth high coloured cloth.

Choleric (lion-drunk)

choler/hot and dry/fire/Mars - 'naturally is lean and slender, covetous, ireful, hasty, brainless, foolish, malicious. He hath wine of the LION.: he chideth, fighteth and commonly he loveth to be clad in black.

Melancholy (swine-drunk)

black bile/cold and dry/earth/Saturn - He is heavy, covetous, backbiter, malicious and slow. his wine is of the HOG, for when he is drunken he desireth sleep. And he loveth black colour.

Phlegmatic (mutton-drunk)

phlegm/cold and moist/water/Moon - he is heavy, slow, sleepy, ingenious, commonly he spitteth when he is moved, and hath his wine of the SHEEP, for when he is drunken he accoutneth himself wisest, and loveth most green colour.

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