The King's Secret
ET the days passed, and 't was mid-June when there came to the door of the house on Cornhill a slender young squire on a slow and sober hack, with a stout and likewise sober gentlewoman afore him on the saddle. The youth had much ado to see his horse's head by peering this way and that around the circuit of his lady, the while he kept one hand at her waist in semblance of protection. And the good folk on Cornhill failed not to find, in all this, food for a jest.
A shoemaker's prentice came running to lend an awl, with:—
“An thou 'lt punch her with this and set thine eye to hole, thou 'lt not need wag thy head so giddily.”
“Nay, master, my tools will serve thee better,” cried a carpenter. “What's an awl to pierce three feet o' flesh?”
“Hold, hold! Thy lady's a-slipping!” laughed another. “Lean on him, mistress,—he hath a stout arm!”
“Look how amorously he doth embrace the maid!”
And Hobbe, coming to the front of his shop, cried out:—
“A rape! a rape!—Rescue the damsel!”