Sir Thomas.
“And now I am reminded by this silly, childish song,—which, after all, is not the true mermaid’s,—thou didst tell me, Silas, that the papers found in the lad’s pocket were intended for poetry.”
Sir Silas.
“I wish he had missed his aim, sir, in your park, as he hath missed it in his poetry. The papers are not worth reading; they do not go against him in the point at issue.”
Sir Thomas.
“We must see that,—they being taken upon his person when apprehended.”
Sir Silas.
“Let Ephraim read them, then; it behooveth not me, a Master of Arts, to con a whelp’s whining.”
Sir Thomas.
“Do thou read them aloud unto us, good Master Ephraim.”