“What? in the dumps, good madam, while all are rejoicing in your joy? Are you afraid that we court-dames shall turn your Adonis's brain for him?”
“I do, indeed, fear lest your condescension should make him forget that he is only a poor squire's orphan.”
“I will warrant him never to forget aught that he should recollect,” said my Lady Bath.
And she spoke truly. But soon Frank's silver voice was heard calling out—
“Room there, good people, for the gallant 'prentice lads!”
And on they came, headed by a giant of buckram and pasteboard armor, forth of whose stomach looked, like a clock-face in a steeple, a human visage, to be greeted, as was the fashion then, by a volley of quips and puns from high and low.
Young Mr. William Cary, of Clovelly, who was the wit of those parts, opened the fire by asking him whether he were Goliath, Gogmagog, or Grantorto in the romance; for giants' names always began with a G. To which the giant's stomach answered pretty surlily—
“Mine don't; I begin with an O.”
“Then thou criest out before thou art hurt, O cowardly giant!”
“Let me out, lads,” quoth the irascible visage, struggling in his buckram prison, “and I soon show him whether I be a coward.”