honestly that I had spent the week past among our plague-stricken. He
flung me off into a cowshed, much like this here, to die, as I
supposed; but one of their priests crept in by night and dressed my
wound. He was a Sussex man like myself.'

'Who was that?' said Puck suddenly. 'Zack Tutshom?'

'No, Jack Marget,' said Mr. Culpeper.

'Jack Marget of New College? The little merry man that stammered so? Why
a plague was stuttering Jack at Oxford then?' said Puck.

'He had come out of Sussex in hope of being made a Bishop when the King
should have conquered the rebels, as he styled us Parliament men. His
College had lent the King some monies too, which they never got again,
no more than simple Jack got his bishopric. When we met he had had a
bitter bellyful of King's promises, and wished to return to his wife and
babes. This came about beyond expectation, for, so soon as I could stand
of my wound the man Blagge made excuse that I had been among the plague,
and Jack had been tending me, to thrust us both out from their camp. The
King had done with Jack now that Jack's College had lent the money, and
Blagge's physician could not abide me because I would not sit silent and
see him butcher the sick. (He was a College of Physicians man!) So
Blagge, I say, thrust us both out, with many vile words, for a pair of
pestilent, prating, pragmatical rascals.'

'Ha! Called _you_ pragmatical, Nick?' Puck started up. 'High time Oliver
came to purge the land! How did you and honest Jack fare next?'

'We were in some sort constrained to each other's company. I was for
going to my house in Spitalfields, he would go to his parish in Sussex;
but the plague was broke out and spreading through Wiltshire, Berkshire,
and Hampshire, and he was so mad distracted to think that it might even
then be among his folks at home that I bore him company. He had
comforted me in my distress. I could not have done less; and I
remembered that I had a cousin at Great Wigsell, near by Jack's parish.
Thus we footed it from Oxford, cassock and buff coat together, resolute
to leave wars on the left side henceforth; and either through our mean
appearances, or the plague making men less cruel, we were not hindered.
To be sure they put us in the stocks one half-day for rogues and
vagabonds at a village under St. Leonard's forest, where, as I have
heard, nightingales never sing; but the constable very honestly gave me
back my Astrological Almanac, which I carry wit