"As correct as the creed itself," whispered Sir Nicholas.
"It may be so," exclaimed the young knight, "but we will let the poetry go. For my part I can't understand that new-fashioned poetry, and I don't want to either. I only like it when it rhymes, like Chaucer."
"That all means," resumed the landlord, "that Queen Mary of Scotland had far better leave our gracious Queen Elizabeth (God bless her) to herself. We don't want Roman Catholic princesses here again, Sir Nicholas."
"No, indeed not. Mary was enough."
Sir George Vernon frowned heavily. He was too sincere a Papist himself to relish such remarks, but he dared not show his displeasure in the face of the Queen's minister.
"And I don't care for poetry anyhow," he gruffly said, "so finish without any more of it if you can."
"I will then. You saw those two mugs offered to the king?"
"Both made of common horn, yes."
"They both came from my bar. One was full of wine, but the other held water."
"Then when my sack comes I would prefer it without the water," Sir
Thomas replied, amid a chorus of laughter.