‘H’m!’ Puck replied. ‘For my own part I hold that a simple soul——’
‘Mine?—simple, forsooth?’ said Mr. Culpeper.
‘A very simple soul, a high courage tempered with sound and stubborn conceit, is stronger than all the stars in their courses. So I confess truly that you saved the village, Nick.’
‘I stubborn? I stiff-necked? I ascribed all my poor success, under God’s good providence, to Divine Astrology. Not to me the glory! You talk as that dear weeping ass Jack Marget preached before I went back to my work in Red Lion House, Spitalfields.
‘Oh! Stammering Jack preached, did he? They say he loses his stammer in the pulpit.’
‘And his wits with it. He delivered a most idolatrous discourse when the plague was stayed. He took for his text: “The wise man that delivered the city.” I could have given him a better, such as: “There is a time for——"’
‘But what made you go to church to hear him?’ Puck interrupted. ‘Wail Attersole was your lawfully appointed preacher, and a dull dog he was!’
Mr. Culpeper wriggled uneasily.
‘The vulgar,’ said he, ‘the old crones and—ahem—the children, Alison and the others, they dragged me to the House of Rimmon by the hand. I was in two minds to inform on Jack for maintaining the mummeries of the falsely called Church, which, I’ll prove to you, are founded merely on ancient fables——’
‘Stick to your herbs and planets,’ said Puck, laughing. ‘You should have told the magistrates, Nick, and had Jack fined. Again, why did you neglect your plain duty?’