De Castro's brow grew black.
"Have a care, or my sheep may turn dog. An they overhear thee, it were safer for thee even to go back to thy London."
Sasportas shook his head with a humorous twinkle.
"Yea, if Sabbataï will accompany me. An he be Messiah let him face the Plague, let him come and prophesy in London and outdo Solomon Eagle; let him heal the sick and disburden the death-carts."
"He should but lay his hands on the sick and they were cured!" retorted De Castro. "But his mission is not in the isles of the West; he establisheth the throne in Zion."
"Well for thee not in Hamburg, else would thy revenues dwindle, O wise physician. But the Plague is wellnigh spent now; if he come now he may take the credit of the cure."
"Rabbi as thou art, thou art an Epicurean; thou sittest in the seat of the scorner."
"'Twas thou didst invite me thereto," murmured Sasportas, smiling.
"The Plague is but a sign of the Messianic times, and the Fire that hath burnt thy dwelling-place is but the castigation for thine incredulity."
"Yea, there be those who think our royal Charles the Messiah, and petition him to declare himself," said Sasportas, with his genial twinkle. "Hath he not also his Melisseldas?"