"Such a comrade," said Sir Hugh, "were worth something on a journey."
"Nay, Sir Hugh," returned the Captain, "I have travelled far and near, yet never met I with such another. By 'ur Lady, I have consorted with your Dane, drank with your Hollander, revelled with your Frenchman, and fought with your Spaniard, yet none did I ever find who could hold comparison with this man."
"I marvel you came not on further together," said Sir Hugh, "since you so well relished his companionship."
"He tarried, as I told you, at Oxford," returned the Captain, "where it seems he had appointed to meet other company. Nay, I myself also tarried one night at Oxford, to rest my horse. We put up at the hostel of the Crown, and, in sooth, a merrier night I never spent withal. This Shakespeare hath a peculiar art. He made himself familiar amidst the various guests, and drew them out to exhibit themselves after the most exquisite fashion. Nay, the hostess of the Crown was herself a woman of exceeding wit and beauty, and seemed to relish the society of the player."
"I know that hostel," said Sir Hugh. "'Tis kept by one Davenant; and the hostess is indeed, as you say, 'a most sweet wench.'"[26]
CHAPTER LIX.
KENILWORTH.
Our readers, we doubt not, have for some time entertained a shrewd suspicion regarding the somewhat indistinct character latterly flitting about amongst the dramatis personæ of our story. The Lady Clara de Mowbray, in her own proper person, has of late been but little seen in the twisted and ravelled skein of this history.
The fortunes of him who is enshrined in all hearts, has of necessity thrown all minor characters into the shade.