Host. Alas! more—­I will tell thee of it.  These be sore times for us.  You must know there hath been a Parliament commission of inquiry into weights and measures, and last Michaelmas a year, no! let me see—­well, marry! there came down—­

Will. Well, well, thou shalt finish anon.

Host. It went nigh to kill me.

Will. Thou shalt tell me all hereafter.

Host. Damnation! but I am glad.  The Lord forgive me!  I had nearly sworn.

Will. Thou hadst—­nearly.

Host. And art thou a vessel of grace, or a brand given to the burning?  Of a verity—­

Will. Come, no lies with me!  I shall doubt thee if thou cantest one word except in thy calling.  Yet I saw by thy first look thou wert glad to see me; so give me thy hand, and I will shake it ere some one calls for a draught of ale, and thou dost relapse into the sordid and muddy calculation that makes thy daily self, and so forget that the friend of thy youth hath revisited thee.  Nay, fear not, I will not betray thee to thy present customers.  But first tell me, why thou art so changed:  seeing that the cavaliers should be thy best friends?

Host. Friend Will!  Twill tell thee—­the cavaliers drink lustily, and of claret and sherris with spice, whereas, it is true, the elect chiefly do affect ale.  But, O Will! your cavalier—­not to speak of my keeping never a serving wench honest for a month, and I have daughters now grown—­your best cavalier would ever pull out a long embroidered purse, with one gold piece in it, regarding which he would briskly swing it round, and jerking it together, replace in his doublet, saying between his hiccups, “Prithee, sweet Spigot!” or it may he, “Jolly Master Gurton! chalk it up; when the king hath his own again, I will repay thee;” or “I will go coin it from Noll’s ruby nose,” and would ride away singing, and in a fortnight the poor gentleman would surely be slain.  And, as for your worst kind of cavalier, when I did gently remind him, he would swear and draw his rapier and make a fearful pass near my belly—­that I was glad to see him depart with a skinful of mine own wine unpaid for.  Moreover, Master Will, an he were handsome and a moon-raker, my wife, that is now at rest, would ever take his part, and cry shame on me for a cuckoldy villain to teaze a sweet, loyal gentleman so, that would pay when a could—­moreover—­

Will. Hold!  Thy reasons are sufficient—­Thou art, worthy Hezekiah! become a saint, to escape martyrdom.  Methinks I see the gallant foin at thy belly.

[Draws his sword and makes a feint at the Host.]

Sa! sa!

Host. Have a care—­[William makes feints.]

Will. I shall die!  Gadzookers! thus, was it thus!—­and thy wife—­a cuckoldy villain—­merely a figure of speech though, Master Gurton!  Eh?  Thou didst not suspect?