ght, or rather this morning."

"And why, I pray you, sage Master Jerningham," said his Grace, "should
I have returned home an instant sooner than my pleasure and convenience
served?"

"Nay, my Lord Duke," replied the attendant, "I know not; only, when you
sent us word by Empson, in Chiffinch's apartment, to command us to make
sure of the girl at any rate, and at all risks, you said you would be
here so soon as you could get freed of the King."

"Freed of the King, you rascal! What sort of phrase is that?" demanded
the Duke.

"It was Empson who used it, my lord, as coming from your Grace."

"There is much very fit for my Grace to say, that misbecomes such
mouths as Empson's or yours to repeat," answered the Duke haughtily,
but instantly resumed his tone of familiarity, for his humour was as
capricious as his pursuits. "But I know what thou wouldst have; first,
your wisdom would know what became of me since thou hadst my commands at
Chiffinch's; and next, your valour would fain sound another flourish of
trumpets on thine own most artificial retreat, leaving thy comrade in
the hands of the Philistines."

"May it please your Grace," said Jerningham, "I did but retreat for the
preservation of the baggage."

"What! do you play at crambo with me?" said the Duke. "I would have you
to know that the common parish fool should be whipt, were he to attempt
to pass pun or quodlibet as a genuine jest, even amongst ticket-porters
and hackney chairmen."

"And yet I have heard your Grace indulge in the _jeu de mots_," answered
the attendant.

"Sirrah Jerningham," answered the patron, "discard they memory, or keep
it under correction, else it will hamper thy rise in the world. Thou
mayst perchance have seen me also have a fancy to play at trap-ball, or
to kiss a serving wench, or to guzzle ale and eat toasted cheese in a
porterly whimsy; but is it fitting thou shouldst remember such follies?
No more on't.--Hark you; how came the long lubberly fool, Jenkins, being
a master of the noble science of defence, to suffer himself to be run
through the body so simply by a rustic swain like this same Peveril?"

"Please your Grace, this same Corydon is no such novice. I saw the
onset; and, except in one hand, I never saw a sword managed with such
life, grace, and facility."

"Ay, indeed?" said the Duke, taking his own sheathed rapier in his hand,
"I could not have thought that. I am somewhat rusted, and have need of
breathing. Peveril