disguise. 'Beggars must not be choosers,' said he. However, soon he bade
me untruss him, for he felt sadly. His head swam. I told him forcefully
to deform nature thus could scarce be wholesome. He answered none; but
looked scared, and hand on head. By-and-by he gave a groan, and rolled
on the ground like a ball, and writhed sore. I was scared, and wist
not what to do, but went to lift him; but his trouble rose higher and
higher, he gnashed his teeth fearfully, and the foam did fly from his
lips; and presently his body bended itself like a bow, and jerked and
bounded many times into the air. I exorcised him; it but made him
worse. There was water in a ditch hard by, not very clear; but the poor
creature struggling between life and death, I filled my hat withal, and
came flying to souse him. Then my lord laughed in my face. 'Come, Bon
Bec, by thy white gills, I have not forgotten my trade.' I stood with
watery hat in hand, glaring. 'Could this be feigning?' 'What else?' said
he. 'Why, a real fit is the sorriest thing; but a stroke with a feather
compared with mine. Art still betters nature.' 'But look, e'en now blood
trickleth from your nose,' said I. 'Ay, ay, pricked my nostrils with a
straw.' 'But ye foamed at the lips.' 'Oh, a little soap makes a mickle
foam.' And he drew out a morsel like a bean from his mouth. 'Thank thy
stars, Bon Bec,' says he, 'for leading thee to a worthy master. Each day
his lesson. To-morrow we will study the cul de bois and other branches.
To-day, own me prince of demoniacs, and indeed of all good fellows.'
Then, being puffed up, he forgot yesterday's grudge, and discoursed
me freely of beggars; and gave me, who eftsoons thought a beggar was a
beggar, and there an end, the names and qualities of full thirty sorts
of masterful and crafty mendicants in France and Germany and England;
his three provinces; for so the poor, proud knave yclept those kingdoms
three; wherein his throne it was the stocks I ween. And outside the next
village one had gone to dinner, and left his wheelbarrow. So says he,
'I'll tie myself in a knot, and shalt wheel me through; and what with
my crippledom and thy piety, a-wheeling of thy poor old dad, we'll bleed
the bumpkins of a dacha-saltee.' I did refuse. I would work for him; but
no hand would have in begging. 'And wheeling an "asker" in a barrow, is
not that work?' said he; 'then fling yon muckle stone in to boot: stay,
I'll soil it a bit, and swear it is a chip of the h