“If it be so,” says Partridge, “Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum.”
My landlord, who had been called out by the arrival of a horseman at the gate, now returned into the kitchen, and with an affrighted countenance cried out, “What do you think, gentlemen? The rebels have given the duke the slip, and are got almost to London. It is certainly true, for a man on horseback just now told me so.”
“I am glad of it with all my heart,” cries Partridge; “then there will be no fighting in these parts.”
“I am glad,” cries the clerk, “for a better reason; for I would always have right take place.”
“Ay, but,” answered the landlord, “I have heard some people say this man hath no right.”
“I will prove the contrary in a moment,” cries the clerk: “if my father dies seized of a right; do you mind me, seized of a right, I say; doth not that right descend to his son; and doth not one right descend as well as another?”
“But how can he have any right to make us papishes?” says the landlord.
“Never fear that,” cries Partridge. “As to the matter of right, the gentleman there hath proved it as clear as the sun; and as to the matter of religion, it is quite out of the case. The papists themselves don't expect any such thing. A popish priest, whom I know very well, and who is a very honest man, told me upon his word and honour they had no such design.”
“And another priest, of my acquaintance,” said the landlady, “hath told me the same thing; but my husband is always so afraid of papishes. I know a great many papishes that are very honest sort of people, and spend their money very freely; and it is always a maxim with me, that one man's money is as good as another's.”
“Very true, mistress,” said the puppet-show man, “I don't care what religion comes; provided the Presbyterians are not uppermost; for they are enemies to puppet-shows.”