ed, as it were, to slumber, withdrawing himself as much as
possible from general observation, and doing nothing which could recall
his existence to the recollection of his fellow-traveller, who by this
time had got into close intimacy with his ancient comrade, Goldthred of
Abingdon.

"Never believe me, bully Mike," said the mercer, "if I am not as glad to
see thee as ever I was to see a customer's money! Why, thou canst give
a friend a sly place at a mask or a revel now, Mike; ay, or, I warrant
thee, thou canst say in my lord's ear, when my honourable lord is down
in these parts, and wants a Spanish ruff or the like--thou canst say in
his ear, There is mine old friend, young Lawrence Goldthred of Abingdon,
has as good wares, lawn, tiffany, cambric, and so forth--ay, and is as
pretty a piece of man's flesh, too, as is in Berkshire, and will ruffle
it for your lordship with any man of his inches; and thou mayest say--"

"I can say a hundred d--d lies besides, mercer," answered Lambourne;
"what, one must not stand upon a good word for a friend!"

"Here is to thee, Mike, with all my heart," said the mercer; "and thou
canst tell one the reality of the new fashions too. Here was a rogue
pedlar but now was crying up the old-fashioned Spanish nether-stock over
the Gascoigne hose, although thou seest how well the French hose set
off the leg and knee, being adorned with parti-coloured garters and
garniture in conformity."

"Excellent, excellent," replied Lambourne; "why, thy limber bit of a
thigh, thrust through that bunch of slashed buckram and tiffany, shows
like a housewife's distaff when the flax is half spun off!"

"Said I not so?" said the mercer, whose shallow brain was now overflowed
in his turn; "where, then, where be this rascal pedlar?--there was a
pedlar here but now, methinks.--Mine host, where the foul fiend is this
pedlar?"

"Where wise men should be, Master Goldthred," replied Giles Gosling;
"even shut up in his private chamber, telling over the sales of to-day,
and preparing for the custom of to-morrow."

"Hang him, a mechanical chuff!" said the mercer; "but for shame, it
were a good deed to ease him of his wares--a set of peddling knaves, who
stroll through the land, and hurt the established trader. There are good
fellows in Berkshire yet, mine host--your pedlar may be met withal on
Maiden Castle."

"Ay," replied mine host, laughing, "and he who meets him may meet his
match--the pedlar is a tall man."