le Mohun engaged him in talk, Hill, in the
words of the Attorney-General, made a pass and run him clean through the
body.

Sixty-one of my lord's peers finding him not guilty of murder, while but
fourteen found him guilty, this very fast nobleman was discharged: and
made his appearance seven years after in another trial for murder--when he,
my Lord Warwick, and three gentlemen of the military profession were
concerned in the fight which ended in the death of Captain Coote.

This jolly company were drinking together at Lockit's in Charing Cross,
when angry words arose between Captain Coote and Captain French; whom my
Lord Mohun and my lord the Earl of Warwick(96) and Holland endeavoured to
pacify. My Lord Warwick was a dear friend of Captain Coote, lent him a
hundred pounds to buy his commission in the Guards; once when the captain
was arrested for 13_l_. by his tailor, my lord lent him five guineas,
often paid his reckoning for him, and showed him other offices of
friendship. On this evening the disputants, French and Coote, being
separated whilst they were upstairs, unluckily stopped to drink ale again
at the bar of Lockit's. The row began afresh--Coote lunged at French over
the bar, and at last all six called for chairs, and went to Leicester
Fields, where they fell to. Their lordships engaged on the side of Captain
Coote. My Lord of Warwick was severely wounded in the hand, Mr. French
also was stabbed, but honest Captain Coote got a couple of wounds--one
especially, "a wound in the left side just under the short ribs, and
piercing through the diaphragma," which did for Captain Coote. Hence the
trials of my Lords Warwick and Mohun: hence the assemblage of peers, the
report of the transaction, in which these defunct fast men still live for
the observation of the curious. My Lord of Warwick is brought to the bar
by the Deputy Governor of the Tower of London, having the axe carried
before him by the gentleman gaoler, who stood with it at the bar at the
right hand of the prisoner, turning the edge from him; the prisoner, at
his approach, making three bows, one to his grace the Lord High Steward,
the other to the peers on each hand; and his grace and the peers return
the salute. And besides these great personages, august in periwigs, and
nodding to the right and left, a host of the small come up out of the past
and pass before us--the jolly captains brawling in the tavern, and laughing
and cursing over their cups--the draw