Each man had an oak desk before him, set at a little distance, and
spread with pens and papers. Instead of writing, however, they seemed
to be laughing and talking, or rather the one in the middle seemed to
be telling some good story, which the others received with approval. By
reason of their great perukes it was hard to tell how old they were; but
the one who was speaking seemed the youngest, although he was the chief
of them. A thick-set, burly, and bulky man, with a blotchy broad face,
and great square jaws, and fierce eyes full of blazes; he was one to be
dreaded by gentle souls, and to be abhorred by the noble.

Between me and the three lord judges, some few lawyers were gathering up
bags and papers and pens and so forth, from a narrow table in the middle
of the room, as if a case had been disposed of, and no other were called
on. But before I had time to look round twice, the stout fierce man
espied me, and shouted out with a flashing stare--

"How now, countryman, who art thou?"

"May it please your worship," I answered him loudly, "I am John Ridd, of
Oare parish, in the shire of Somerset, brought to this London, some two
months back by a special messenger, whose name is Jeremy Stickles;
and then bound over to be at hand and ready, when called upon to give
evidence, in a matter unknown to me, but touching the peace of our lord
the King, and the well-being of his subjects. Three times I have met our
lord the King, but he hath said nothing about his peace, and only held
it towards me, and every day, save Sunday, I have walked up and down the
great hall of Westminster, all the business part of the day, expecting
to be called upon, yet no one hath called upon me. And now I desire to
ask your worship, whether I may go home again?"

"Well, done, John," replied his lordship, while I was panting with all
this speech; "I will go bail for thee, John, thou hast never made such
a long speech before; and thou art a spunky Briton, or thou couldst not
have made it now. I remember the matter well, and I myself will attend
to it, although it arose before my time"--he was but newly Chief
Justice--"but I cannot take it now, John. There is no fear of losing
thee, John, any more than the Tower of London. I grieve for His
Majesty's exchequer, after keeping thee two months or more."

"Nay, my lord, I crave your pardon. My mother hath been keeping me. Not
a groat have I received."

"Spank, is it so?" his lordship cried, in a voic