Little knowing how prophetic were those latter words, he drew aside; then, as I would have passed him by, he plucked me by the sleeve, and, with a knowing wink, said:
"A favour, friend, a favour. Speak well of one John Coram to his reverence, for verily my zeal is most abounding. Hark!" he added, raising a shaking hand as a great shout reached us from the street. "Doth not the Lord's cause prosper mightily? Yea, I trow it doth indeed. And what am I, John Coram, to be spoken well of to his reverence? Friend, it might seem to thee that I am overfull of ale, but 'tis not so; nay, I vow I never touch the stuff. 'Tis burning zeal which fills me, nothing else. Zeal, I say, zeal! zeal!"
Nodding heavily, he staggered over to a bench, and crashing down thereon, sat staring in amazement at his jack boots.
But having got thus far I craved some information.
"Where is the Duke?" I asked.
The fellow waved his hand and said:
"He sits in yon great room receiving followers."
"And is the chaplain with him?"
"Aye, verily, why not? Our godly chaplain is the friend of kings, and nigh as full of zeal as me, John Coram. Ho! ho! methinks that's good; ah, passing good be that. Ho! ho!"
I waited till his roaring laugh had sunk into a rumble, then fired a random shot.