With leisurely gravity, Sir Percevall slowly read the note, and then, returning it with a polite gesture:
"This letter hath reference to certain monopolies," he said. "My cousin Bacon doth write in high terms of your skill and high merit, Master—Master——"
"Droop, sir. Copernicus Droop's my name."
"Ah, yes! And the service you require—? I beg your indulgence, but, sooth to say, being nigh starved of late in this tavern of ill repute, my poor wits have grown fat. I am slow of apprehension, Master Wither——"
"Droop, sir—Droop."
"Nay—cry you mercy—Master Droop."
"Why, now, Sir Percy," said Copernicus, with oily grace, "ef you wouldn't mind, I'd be proud ef you'd set down over yonder, perchance, and have a glass with me. We'd be more private then, and I could make this hull business clear to ye. What say ye, sir?"
"Why, there's my hand, Master Dupe—Droop," said the knight, his face brightening mightily. "Five yards are a mile for a man of my girth, Master Droop, but praise God such words as these of yours cheer my heart to still greater deeds than faring a mile afoot."
Slowly and painfully the corpulent knight drew himself to his feet, and with one hand bearing affectionately but heavily on Droop's shoulder, he shuffled over to the recess and seated himself.
"What ho, there! Drawer!" he shouted, as soon as they were comfortably disposed face to face.