Hope again revived within the heart of the prisoner.
"Nay, stop, Sir George," interrupted the younger knight; "you cannot see a play like this at any time you choose. Stay awhile and bid me company, and forget your troubles in a stoup of ale."
"Aye, I have the best in the town," added the host; "there is nothing like it in all London."
This was quite a new idea, and Sir George scratched his head, as if by so doing he might facilitate his judgment, and then he did what so many other troubled ones have done, both before his time and since, he sought to drown his troubles by gorging himself with his favourite liquor.
"Ha! well," he muttered, "the ale is good, as London ale goes, I trow, but——"
"It is indeed," added the tavern-keeper promptly. "There's none better, though I say it."
"But I think I will have cider," continued the baron, not heeding the interruption.
"I will fetch it myself," exclaimed the proprietor of the Cock; "and sure I am, 'twill be the best that ever you have tasted."
"Nay, hold," interrupted Sir George, "I will go with thee. I will trust none to spice my drink except it be Lady Maude, or Dorothy. I will go with thee and spice it myself."
"And I will have some simple sack," said Sir Thomas.