bishop of Canterbury dance the hays like a
Frenchman. There is nothing in dancing; it all lies in the music. Rowley
does not know that now. He saw this poor wench dance; and thought so
much on't, when it was all along of me. I would have defied her to sit
still. And Rowley gives her the credit of it, and five pieces to boot;
and I have only two for my morning's work!"

"True, Master Empson," said the lady; "but you are of the family, though
in a lower station; and you ought to consider----"

"By G--, madam," answered Empson, "all I consider is, that I play the
best flageolet in England; and that they can no more supply my place, if
they were to discard me, than they could fill Thames from Fleet-Ditch."

"Well, Master Empson, I do not dispute but you are a man of talents,"
replied the lady; "still, I say, mind the main chance--you please the
ear to-day--another has the advantage of you to-morrow."

"Never, mistress, while ears have the heavenly power of distinguishing
one note from another."

"Heavenly power, say you, Master Empson?" said the lady.

"Ay, madam, heavenly; for some very neat verses which we had at our
festival say,

'What know we of the blest above,
But that they sing and that they love?'

It is Master Waller wrote them, as I think; who, upon my word, ought to
be encouraged."

"And so should you, my dear Empson," said the dame, yawning, "were it
only for the honour you do to your own profession. But in the meantime,
will you ask these people to have some refreshment?--and will you take
some yourself?--the chocolate is that which the Ambassador Portuguese
fellow brought over to the Queen."

"If it be genuine," said the musician.

"How, sir?" said the fair one, half rising from her pile of
cushions--"Not genuine, and in this house!--Let me understand you,
Master Empson--I think, when I first saw you, you scarce knew chocolate
from coffee."

"By G--, madam," answered the flageolet-player, "you are perfectly
right. And how can I show better how much I have profited by your
ladyship's excellent cheer, except by being critical?"

"You stand excused, Master Empson," said the _petite maitresse_, sinking
gently back on the downy couch, from which a momentary irritation had
startled her--"I think the chocolate will please you, though scarce
equal to what we had from the Spanish resident Mendoza.--But we must
offer these strange people something. Will you ask them if they would
have coffee and cho