is thankful acknowledgment,
instead of his frantic menaces: that, for his own part, he would be the
first to condemn him, as one utterly bereft of his wits, and give orders
for his being secured as a madman, unless he would immediately give a
proof of his sanity by laying aside his sword, composing his spirits,
and thanking his injured friends for their care of his person.

This alternative quieted his transports in a moment: he was terrified at
the apprehension of being treated like a bedlamite, being dubious of
the state of his own brain; and, on the other hand, had conceived such
a horror and antipathy for his tormentors, that, far from believing
himself obliged by what they had done, he could not even think of them
without the utmost rage and detestation. He, therefore, in the most
tranquil voice he could assume, protested that he never was less out
of his senses than at present, though he did not know how long he might
retain them, if he should be considered in the light of a lunatic: that,
in order to prove his being Compos mentis, he was willing to sacrifice
the resentment he so justly harboured against those who, by their
malice, had brought him to this pass; but, as he apprehended it would
be the greatest sign of madness he could exhibit to thank them for
the mischiefs they had brought upon him, he desired to be excused from
making any such concession; and swore he would endure everything rather
than be guilty of such mean absurdity.

Peregrine held a consultation upon this reply, when the governor and
physician strenuously argued against any capitulation with a maniac, and
proposed that some method might be taken to seize, fetter, and convey
him into a dark room, where he might be treated according to the rules
of art; but the Capuchin, understanding the circumstances of the case,
undertook to restore him to his former state, without having recourse to
such violent measures. Pickle, who was a better judge of the affair
than any person present, opened the door without further hesitation, and
displayed the poor painter standing with a woeful countenance, shivering
in his shirt, which was as wet as if he had been dragged through the
Dender:--a spectacle which gave such offence to the chaste eyes of the
Hebrew's mistress, who was by this time one of the spectators, that she
turned her head another way, and withdrew to her own room, exclaiming
against the indecent practices of men.

Pallet, seeing the young gentl