Passionately fond of a horse, like most men bred and born in the country, he examined its points with interest. It was in truth a noble animal, answering in every point the description he has himself given of a perfect courser:
"Round hoofed, short-pointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide,
High chest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.
Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack."
Pulling the arched neck of the noble steed, he then led him towards the man holding its fellow.
"Know you the owner of this goodly horse?" he inquired.
The man was evidently a sort of character, a swaggerer who wished to pass for a gentleman and a soldier, albeit his elbows were ragged, and his whole dress patched and furbished up.
"Know I Master Edmund Spencer?" he said, looking contemptuously upon Shakespeare. "Where canst thou have lived, boy, to ask the question. Best inquire me next for the rider of this nag, Sir Walter Raleigh. Thou knowest not the choice spirits of the Court. Ergo, thou art strange to the town."
"I am, in sooth, a stranger to the town," said Shakespeare; "but a few hours old in it."
"And from whence?" inquired the other.
"From Warwickshire," returned Shakespeare.
"The county I know," returned the other; "my grandsire was of Warwick, eke also. Hast coin in pouch, camarado mine?"