“Hush! hush! my good young Sir,” Sir Francis cried, having vainly endeavoured to interrupt his companion’s angry denunciation.  “Pray heaven your words have reached no other ears than mine!  To speak of the Star-Chamber as you have spoken is worse than treason.  Many a man has lost his ears, and been branded on the brow, for half you have uttered.”

“Is free speech denied in this free country?” the young man cried in astonishment.  “Must one suffer grievous wrong, and not complain?”

“Certes, you must not contemn the Star-Chamber, or you will incur its censure,” Sir Francis replied in a low tone.  “No court in England is so jealous of its prerogatives, nor so severe in punishment of its maligners.  It will not have its proceedings canvassed, or its judgments questioned.”

“For the plain reason, that it knows they will not bear investigation or discussion.  Such is the practice of all arbitrary and despotic rule.  But will Englishmen submit to such tyranny?”

“Again, let me counsel you to put a bridle on your tongue, young Sir.  Such matters are not to be talked of at public tables—­scarcely in private.  It is well you have addressed yourself to one who will not betray you.  The Star-Chamber hath its spies everywhere.  Meddle not with it, as you value liberty.  Light provocation arouses its anger; and once aroused, its wrath is all-consuming.”

CHAPTER V.

Jocelyn Mounchensey.

Notwithstanding the risk incurred, the young man, whose feelings were evidently deeply interested, seemed disposed to pursue the dangerous theme; but perceiving one of their opposite neighbours glancing at them, Sir Francis checked him; and filling his glass essayed to change the conversation, by inquiring how long he had been in town, and where he lodged?

“I only arrived in London yesterday,” was the reply; “yet I have been here long enough to make me loth to return to the woods and moors of Norfolk.  As to my lodging, it is without the city walls, near St. Botolph’s Church, and within a bow shot of Aldgate:  a pleasant situation enough, looking towards the Spital Fields and the open country.  I would fain have got me others in the Strand, or near Charing Cross, if my scanty means would have allowed me.  Chance, as I have said, brought me here to-day.  Strolling forth early to view the sights of town, I crossed London Bridge, the magnificence of which amazed me; and, proceeding along the Bankside, entered Paris Garden, of which I had heard much, and where I was greatly pleased, both with the mastiffs kept there, and the formidable animals they have to encounter; and, methought, I should like to bait mine enemies with those savage dogs, instead of the bear.  Returning to the opposite shore in a wherry, the waterman landed me at this wharf, and so highly commended the Three Cranes, as affording the best French ordinary and the best French wine in London, that seeing many gentlefolk flocking towards it, which seemed to confirm his statement, I came in with them, and have reason to be satisfied with my entertainment, never having dined so sumptuously before, and, certes, never having tasted wine so delicious.”