“None of thy foolery, rogue, or I’ll clap thy claw-foot in the stocks:—thou wilt come to the gallows tree at last;—a sluggard all thy life long, I’ll warrant me.”
“Look you, master, a slug is a fat thing, and a slow, that feeds without working. Now, you see, I am as lean as a scarecrow, and, lame as I am, I will race thee for a breakfast.”
“Out, thou yellow-faced varlet; out, troop away; take thy gabble to the common, and pick thy breakfast with the geese.”
“Have me to thy home, and give me part of thy manchets: it will be all the same, for then I shall breakfast with the gander.”
Till this moment, neither of the parties had seen Martin; but no sooner did the aged and wandering son of Thespis espy his countenance and smile than he boldly came back, and accosted him:—“Most gallant Cavalier, for by the very curl of thy light beard I see thou art one, help me in my need. Thou seest that I am pricked with many thorns: help me, I say, and so may God help you, and cover your head in battle.”
The beadle turned round with surprise; but before he had time to utter a single word Martin had slipped into the hand of the wanderer a piece of silver; and as, at the very same moment, the door of the Jolly Woodcutter was opened by a stout serving wench, he escaped thanks and questions by entering the house.
“Silver, by my luck!—silver—and a broad piece! look you,” said the exulting wanderer; “now begone dull care: let us take no thought for to-morrow; we will begin our day with a morning’s draught of sack, next, we will be clean shaven, for money is a gentleman. We will have a pasty to our dinner, and be a lord for the rest of the day. A broad piece! I will drink canary; and this young cavalier shall hear my recitations, and I will regale him with merry songs. There hangeth a viol de gamba in the barber’s shop, and there be a score of old play books on his shelf: we will have a rare evening. I will reward this young master: he hath breeding, and will take pleasure in my company; let to-morrow take care of itself, or let him take care of it for me: we will drink canary.” These resolutions, the natural fruit of Martin’s inconsiderate bounty, had well nigh disconcerted his quiet plan; but, luckily, the thoughtless player had drunk himself into a sound sleep before the evening chimes struck five.