“But how if I lack no assistance from thee, Mike?  I think thy modesty might suppose that were a case possible.”

“That is to say,” retorted Lambourne, “that you would engross the whole work, rather than divide the reward.  But be not over-greedy, Anthony—­covetousness bursts the sack and spills the grain.  Look you, when the huntsman goes to kill a stag, he takes with him more dogs than one.  He has the stanch lyme-hound to track the wounded buck over hill and dale, but he hath also the fleet gaze-hound to kill him at view.  Thou art the lyme-hound, I am the gaze-hound; and thy patron will need the aid of both, and can well afford to requite it.  Thou hast deep sagacity—­an unrelenting purpose—­a steady, long-breathed malignity of nature, that surpasses mine.  But then, I am the bolder, the quicker, the more ready, both at action and expedient.  Separate, our properties are not so perfect; but unite them, and we drive the world before us.  How sayest thou—­shall we hunt in couples?”

“It is a currish proposal—­thus to thrust thyself upon my private matters,” replied Foster; “but thou wert ever an ill-nurtured whelp.”

“You shall have no cause to say so, unless you spurn my courtesy,” said Michael Lambourne; “but if so, keep thee well from me, Sir Knight, as the romance has it.  I will either share your counsels or traverse them; for I have come here to be busy, either with thee or against thee.”

“Well,” said Anthony Foster, “since thou dost leave me so fair a choice, I will rather be thy friend than thine enemy.  Thou art right; I can prefer thee to the service of a patron who has enough of means to make us both, and an hundred more.  And, to say truth, thou art well qualified for his service.  Boldness and dexterity he demands—­the justice-books bear witness in thy favour; no starting at scruples in his service why, who ever suspected thee of a conscience? an assurance he must have who would follow a courtier—­and thy brow is as impenetrable as a Milan visor.  There is but one thing I would fain see amended in thee.”

“And what is that, my most precious friend Anthony?” replied Lambourne; “for I swear by the pillow of the Seven Sleepers I will not be slothful in amending it.”

“Why, you gave a sample of it even now,” said Foster.  “Your speech twangs too much of the old stamp, and you garnish it ever and anon with singular oaths, that savour of Papistrie.  Besides, your exterior man is altogether too deboshed and irregular to become one of his lordship’s followers, since he has a reputation to keep up in the eye of the world.  You must somewhat reform your dress, upon a more grave and composed fashion; wear your cloak on both shoulders, and your falling band unrumpled and well starched.  You must enlarge the brim of your beaver, and diminish the superfluity of your trunk-hose; go to church, or, which will be better, to meeting, at least once a month; protest only upon your faith and conscience; lay aside your swashing look, and never touch the hilt of your sword but when you would draw the carnal weapon in good earnest.”