IAN: Forsooth Kenneth! Look unto thine glass. I see it is empty!
KENNETH: Ay! It is Ian. Why dost thou point this out?
IAN: Me thinks that you look like you could use a glass milk.
KENNETH: Nay, Nay! Milk in an age before refrigeration? I thinketh not.
IAN: Refrigeration? What evil do you speaketh of? I knoweth not of this thing.
KENNETH: Tis not important. But resteth assured, I do not wish to partake of milk.
IAN: Not even if I were to mix…an EGG in it?
KENNETH: Are you insaneth? How much more unsanitary can you make this drink?
IAN: Looketh, tis not as bad as you believe. Why I shall take a drink myself to showeth you.
Ian takes a drink and grimaces.
IAN: BLECCHETH! That’s wretched.
KENNETH: See, I told you. Tis a nasty drink, not fit for a beast nor wench.
IAN: Perhaps if I add something. Let me checketh the pantry…
IAN rummages through the pantry, and finds cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg. Both Kenneth and IAN mix the spices in. Ian takes another drink.
IAN: YEEARCGH! It’s still a nasty brew!
KENNETH takes a swig, and makes a painful face.
KENNETH: Sweet Lord almighty! That tastes like the cream of a rancid swine! There’s only one thing that can save this drink.
KENNETH and IAN: BRANDY! Just like we add to all other beverages here in an era of questionable hygiene.
Brandy is added, and drinks are taken.
IAN: Say… this isn’t bad. But I think I can only stomach this once a year.
KENNETH: Hear, hear. Thank Christ for that!
IAN: I think I will.
And a tradition was born.