“That courbe—hafted key,” said Throckle, lifting it up; “that—a—a—I call—a—a—a—I call Crooked-hold-him-fast: he locks the donjon vault at the end of the passage—a—the passage aneath the stair. There—a—there lies the tway rogues wha were cotched i’ the same trap wi’ the wight in the hanging vault. This third key—a—this here is called Nicholas-nimble-touch: he—a—he openeth the range of vaults on the north side. They are tenantless; but an the Knight and his bandon have good luck, they may be filled ere the morn’s night. This—a—this other key—a—I call Will-whirl-i’-the-wards—a: he opens—a—opens the dark vault i’ the middle, in which—a—in which is the mouth o’ the donjon pit.”
“An’ what be that sma’ tiny key?” said Betty Burrel.
“That,” said Trockle, “that—a—a—that is merry Mrs. Margery-of-the-mousetrap, though—a—a—that is but an ill-bestowed name, seeing that—a—a—it be’s more of a bird-cage, I wot. But—a—a—Mrs. Margery keeps—she—a—she keeps the door—a—the door of the ladies’ room—the ladies’ room off [[159]]the passage—a—the passage leading to the hall, them knawest—a—thou knawest there be’s a linnet bird there encaged. The Knight—a—the Knight can’t at no rate make her warble—a—warble as he would ha’ her. But she’s but new caught—a—and she may sing another measure—a—ay, ay, and dance too, when he comes back again. Nay, but now I ha’ told thee all—a—sweet Mistress Betty Burrel—a—sweet Betty, sit thee down—a—a—a—and sing—a—a—sing one roundel. Coum! here’s to thy health, my—a—a—my bonny blossom.”
He put the wooden stoup to his head, and drained it to the bottom.
“A—a—” said he then, attempting to rise and lay hold of Betty; “a—a—coum—a—a—sit thee—a—a—a—sit thee down—sit thee down—a—one roundel—one kiss—a—a—.”
“Nay, nay,” cried Betty Burrel, moving off; “I maun to my bed i’ the kitchen, Master Throckle; I be wearisome tired and sleepy.”
“Now, see,” cried Throckle, standing up, “now see—a—see what it is—a—see what it is to be between liquor and love—a. Wise as thou art, Master Daniel Throckle, thou be’st but as the ass i’ the fable between the tway haycocks—a.—Shalt thou after the Rownsyvall jade now?—or shalt thou—a—shalt thou have one stoup more—ay—one stoup more?—Daniel, one stoup more will make thee—a—will make thee—a—one stoup the stouter. Coum, then—a.”
He opened the spigot, and, holding the stoup with both hands, tried to catch the ale as it spouted forth, gallons of it spilling on the floor for the drops that entered the mouth of the vessel.
“A murrain—a—a—a murrain on it, I say—a. May I die—a—die of thirst—a—if the barrel be not dronkelew—a. It canna—a—a—it canna stand fast—a—a—stand fast only till I—a—a—till I fill mine stoup—a—a. But hold!—a—a—hold, I say—it runs over now—a—a—over now like a fountain. Oh! I am the man—a—a—to empty a can—a—a—and fill it—a—a—(hiccup)—fill it again and again—ah!—a—a—so here goes.”
And, leaving the spigot to run as it might, he put the stoup to his head, and drinking it out, staggered forward a step or two towards the door, and, losing his feet and his balance at the same moment, fell backwards with a tremendous crash on the pavement, where he lay senseless in a sea of ale that deluged the floor. [[160]]