The new comer was a tall, good-looking youth, clad in a worn leathern jerkin, which seemed as if it had endured the worst spite of the elements, and done duty in the woods for many years. His russet boots were drawn up to the thigh, and his well-worn wide-brimmed beaver was without feather or ornament, except a large assortment of fish-hooks, with the horse-hair twisted around it. In short, he looked what he really was—a dissolute hanger-on of a country town, and yet a good fellow withal, one given to the sports of the field, without means or license to pursue them—one of Diana's foresters, a poacher, a professed deer-stealer.
"You keep a goodly revel here, my masters," said he, drawing a chair, and seating himself unceremoniously at the table.
"Ha! what, Diccon Snare, is it thou, thou wandering knight of the hollow woods?" said Froth. "By my troth, thou art welcome; fill thyself a chalice for the nonce. How goes all at Warwick?"
"I scarcely know," said Snare, "since I have not been there for some days. If I have news at all, it is of these parts, and farther afield. There is work for you to-night an ye listen. The old Pike of Charlecote hath ridden forth, and taken in his train some thirty followers. The moon is up to be sure, but then the woodlands are but badly watched."
"And how know'st thou this, thou sworn enemy of an outlying stag?" inquired Shakespeare.
"How know I it? Why, from sure intelligence, and careful watching. How else should I know my trade?"
"Nay, thou hast served a pretty apprenticeship to the poaching trade, Diccon, that's certain," said Froth, "as the hangman's brand can testify! And what takes Sir Thomas to town with so strong an escort?"
"It seems there is more trouble at Court about the Queen of Scots," said Snare, "and her name is again mixed up with all sorts of intrigues and plots against our Queen. My Lord of Leicester hath stroked the beard of consideration upon the matter, and set on foot an association for the nonce. They are sworn keepers of the Queen's safety in life, and doubly sworn to revenge her death, should she fall by these malignant conspirators. A great many of the gentry around have gone up to join in this association, whilst the Queen of Scots is again placed in more severe keeping."
"Ha!" said Froth, "I heard somewhat of this before; and so—"
"And so," continued Snare, "Sir Thomas in great state hath set forth towards town, and sleeps to-night at Kenilworth, where the great Bear-ward at present lies."