nsult in the streets, he
having had a narrow escape from the burgesses, when the churls pursued
him and his two servants into the Dominican convent. The servants, too,
have been removed to Fife, lest they should tell tales."

"Why, it was wisely done," said the Prince, who, we need not inform the
intelligent reader, had a better title to be so called than arose from
the humours of the evening--"it was prudently done to keep light tongued
companions out of the way. But St. John's absenting himself from our
solemn revels, so long before decreed, is flat mutiny and disclamation
of allegiance. Or, if the knight be really the prisoner of illness and
melancholy, we must ourself grace him with a visit, seeing there can be
no better cure for those maladies than our own presence, and a gentle
kiss of the calabash. Forward, ushers, minstrels, guard, and attendants!
Bear on high the great emblem of our dignity. Up with the calabash, I
say, and let the merry men who carry these firkins, which are to supply
the wine cup with their life blood, be chosen with regard to their state
of steadiness. Their burden is weighty and precious, and if the fault
is not in our eyes, they seem to us to reel and stagger more than were
desirable. Now, move on, sirs, and let our minstrels blow their blythest
and boldest."

On they went with tipsy mirth and jollity, the numerous torches flashing
their red light against the small windows of the narrow streets, from
whence nightcapped householders, and sometimes their wives to boot,
peeped out by stealth to see what wild wassail disturbed the peaceful
streets at that unwonted hour. At length the jolly train halted before
the door of Sir John Ramorny's house, which a small court divided from
the street.

Here they knocked, thundered, and halloo'd, with many denunciations of
vengeance against the recusants who refused to open the gates. The least
punishment threatened was imprisonment in an empty hogshead, within the
massamore [principal dungeon] of the Prince of Pastimes' feudal palace,
videlicet, the ale cellar. But Eviot, Ramorny's page, heard and knew
well the character of the intruders who knocked so boldly, and thought
it better, considering his master's condition, to make no answer at
all, in hopes that the revel would pass on, than to attempt to deprecate
their proceedings, which he knew would be to no purpose. His master's
bedroom looking into a little garden, his page hoped he might not be
dist