but I am glad. The Lord
forgive me! I had nearly sworn.
_Will._ Thou hadst--nearly.
_Host._ And art thou a vessel of grace, or a brand
given to the burning? Of a verity--
_Will._ Come, no lies with me! I shall doubt thee
if thou cantest one word except in thy calling. Yet
I saw by thy first look thou wert glad to see me; so
give me thy hand, and I will shake it ere some one
calls for a draught of ale, and thou dost relapse into
the sordid and muddy calculation that makes thy
daily self, and so forget that the friend of thy youth
hath revisited thee. Nay, fear not, I will not betray
thee to thy present customers. But first tell me, why
thou art so changed: seeing that the cavaliers should
be thy best friends?
_Host._ Friend Will! Twill tell thee--the cavaliers
drink lustily, and of claret and sherris with spice,
whereas, it is true, the elect chiefly do affect ale. But,
O Will! your cavalier--not to speak of my keeping
never a serving wench honest for a month, and I have
daughters now grown--your best cavalier would ever
pull out a long embroidered purse, with one gold piece
in it, regarding which he would briskly swing it round,
and jerking it together, replace in his doublet, saying
between his hiccups, "Prithee, sweet Spigot!" or it
may he, "Jolly Master Gurton! chalk it up; when the
king hath his own again, I will repay thee;" or "I
will go coin it from Noll's ruby nose," and would ride
away singing, and in a fortnight the poor gentleman
would surely be slain. And, as for your worst kind of
cavalier, when I did gently remind him, he would
swear and draw his rapier and make a fearful pass
near my belly--that I was glad to see him depart
with a skinful of mine own wine unpaid for.
Moreover, Master Will, an he were handsome and a
moon-raker, my wife, that is now at rest, would ever take
his part, and cry shame on me for a cuckoldy villain
to teaze a sweet, loyal gentleman so, that would pay
when a could--moreover--
_Will._ Hold! Thy reasons are sufficient--Thou art,
worthy Hezekiah! become a saint, to escape
martyrdom. Methinks I see the gallant foin at thy belly.
[_Draws his sword and makes a feint at the Host._]
Sa! sa!
_Host._ Have a care--[_William makes feints._]
_Will._ I shall die! Gadzookers! thus, was it
thus!--and thy wife--a cuckoldy villain--merely a figure
of speech though, Master Gurton! Eh? Thou didst
not suspect?
_Host._ Wilt thou be quiet; I see n
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