He was, peradventure, afraid of
the hunting, and liketh his own neck better than the sport. He careth
not, methinks, to show his face that turns big back on his comrade's
peril."
"May be," said Buckingham, "your Majesty's favour is not so winsome as a
lady's cheek. I would wager my cap, Jack Finett hath found a smoother
tongue, but a harder service, than your Majesty's."
"O' my saul,--if I thought so," said the monarch, as he threw down a
spoonful of buttered pease, "I would send him to the Tower, and he
should write a book on Hercules his distaff."
"Or Omphale's spindle," said a voice at the lower end of the hall,
which, issuing from a mask, closely fitted, sounded wondrously hollow
and portentous. A profound silence ensued--all eyes being turned towards
the speaker, who was no less a personage than the first household god,
attired in his proper suit. He approached the king's table, waving his
hand in token of attention--
"The knight ye speak of, mark me well,
I've just drawn from the castle-well!"
"Mercy on us," cried Sir Richard Hoghton. "The draw-well is more than
eighty yards deep. Thou art a lying deity, and shalt be banished from
this bright Olympus.
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