"But Will Jones is not a Cavalier any more than I am," interrupted Careless.
"'Tis not an ill compliment, methinks, to say that both of you—despite your attire—might pass for Cavaliers," said the barber.
"We do not desire to be taken for other than we are—simple grooms," said Careless. "Prithee, hold thy peace, unless thou canst talk more to the purpose, and proceed with thy task."
"Nay, I meant no offence," said the barber. "I only wish you to understand that you need make no mystery with me. I am a true man, and not a Roundhead."
He then plied his razor so expeditiously that in a trice he had finished shaving the king.
As he handed Charles a napkin and ewer, he said, in a tone of profound respect:
"I ought to know that face."
"Where canst thou have seen me, master?" rejoined the king. "I have never been in thy shop before."
"'Tis not in Ciceter that I have seen you," said the barber, still in the same profoundly respectful tone; "but in a far different spot, and under far different circumstances. Little did I think that I should be thus honoured."
"No great honour in shaving a groom," cried Charles.