bole,
On this a slug, on that a butterfly.
Nay, he who hooked the _salmo_ pendent here,
Also exhibited, this same May-month,
'_Foxgloves: a study_'--so inspires the scene,
The air, which now the younger personage
Inflates him with till lungs o'erfraught are fain
Sigh forth a satisfaction might bestir
Even those tufts of tree-tops to the South
I' the distance where the green dies off to grey,
Which, easy of conjecture, front the Place;
He eyes them, elbows wide, each hand to cheek.
His fellow, the much older--either say
A youngish-old man or man oldish-young--
Sits at the table: wicks are noisome-deep
In wax, to detriment of plated ware;
Above--piled, strewn--is store of playing-cards,
Counters and all that's proper for a game.

Circumstantial as the description of this parlor and the situation of
the inn is, it is impossible to say which out of the many English inns
Browning had in mind. Inns date back to the days of the Romans, who had
ale-houses along the roads, the most interesting feature of which was
the ivy garland or wreath of vine-leaves in honor of Bacchus, wreathed
around a hoop at the end of a long pole to point out the way where good
drink could be had. A curious survival of this in early English times
was the "ale-stake," a tavern so called because it had a long pole
projecting from the house front wreathed like the old Roman poles with
furze, a garland of flowers or an ivy wreath. This decoration was called
the "bush," and in time the London taverners so vied with each other in
their attempt to attract attention by very long poles and very prominent
bushes that in 1375 a law was passed according to which all taverners
in the city of London owning ale-stakes projecting or extending over the
King's highway more than seven feet in length, at the utmost, should be
fined forty pence, and compelled to remove the sign. Here is the origin,
too, of the proverb, "good wine needs no bush." In the later development
of the inn the signs lost their Bacchic character and became most
elaborate, often being painted by artists.

The poet says this inn was the "Something-arms," and had perhaps once
been a house. Many inns were the "Something (?) arms" and certainly many
inns had been houses. One such is the Pounds Bridge Inn on a secluded
road between Speldhurst and Penshurst in Kent. It was built by the
rector of Penshurst, William Darkenoll, who liv