twixt us.

Now, I grieve to say that early in the new year, my master, who had of
late seemed docile and obedient to the orders of the worshipful the
Stationers' Company, fell once more into his evil practices of secret
printing. I know not how or why it was, but more than once he was
absent visiting the minister at Kingston; and once, that same Welshman,
Master Penry, whom I had met in Oxford, came to our house and had a long
conference there, and left behind him certain papers which my master
carefully locked away.

And one night, after I had been late out, when I came back, I spied a
light in the cellar below, and heard the rumble of a press there, and
knew that, cost what it would, my master was once more risking his
liberty and fortune at the bidding of his bishop-hating employers.

"Master," said I, boldly marching below, to where he stood busily
working his press, "since I am to be your son-in-law, I may as well
share your peril. Have I your leave?"

He looked half-vexed and half-contented; and declared that what he did,
though it might be against the rules, was yet a righteous thing, and he
wanted not my help unless I thought the same. This tract, said he,
could it but get abroad, would save God's Church from much evil that
threatened her; and to that end he was willing to risk his liberty in
printing it.

Now, whether he was right or wrong, I was not scholar enough to
understand all the tract said concerning the state of the Church. But
since no one wished to see the Church improved more than I, I was ready
to believe my master's cause a righteous one, and told him as much.

And having once lent myself to the work, it suited my humour to carry it
on without question, though not without sundry misgivings as to how far
it sorted with my loyalty to my Queen to be thus flying in the face of a
decree of her honourable Star Chamber.

But before this labour was done, a new task fell into my hands. For one
day, as I worked at my case, I heard a voice at the door say:

"Is it here I find my Hollander, like Pegasus clipped of his wings, yet
giving wings to the thoughts of the wise, so that they may fly abroad,
as, in sooth, shall presently mine own burning numbers? Salute me, my
once servant, now honoured to be called my friend, and the goal of my
muse-sped wanderings."

It was the poet. But how changed from the gay popinjay I knew on the
_Misericorde_!

He was so lean that the skin scarce held togethe