Frazer nodded his head with the remark: “I remember the one occasion.”
“In the tireing room at the Curtain, last winter, when between the acts in Tamburlaine, you showed me the counter parades in quarte and tierce. I have since put the lesson to good use, and have brought the house down by its exhibition. Didst thou ever see him fence, Bartol?” he inquired of the actor who was seated opposite himself.
“Not I,” answered Bartol.
“It would do your heart good unless the encounter were in real earnest and thyself an actor in it. And then thy life would not be worth a tuppence. How ready lies thy blade for an occasion of that kind,” he added, noticing the sword still laid across the table.
“Your praise is high,” said Frazer. “As for the sword, the hilt, when in its place, interferes with my elbow when I drink.”
“Three reasons now for its drawing,” murmured the landlord to himself, as, near at hand, he had been quietly listening to the conversation. “The fourth reason will undoubtedly be the true one.”
“And when did you leave the city?” asked Bartol.
“Nearer seven than six by the clock in the tower at the Southwark end of the London Bridge,” answered the late comer.
“Did you pass the morris-dancers?”
“Will Kemp and his company?”