So saying, he took a well-filled purse from the velvet pouch depending from his girdle, and gave it to Sir Henry Bedingfeld, by whom it was handed to Og.
“We thank you most heartily for your bounty, Sire,” said Og, bowing as he received the princely gift, “and shall not fail to drink long life to your Majesty.”
“Ay, long life to his Majesty,” cried Gog, in a stentorian voice, “and may Heaven shower its choicest blessings on his head. Shout, friends, shout!” he added, turning to the others, who instantly responded by loud cries of “Long live the King!”
Bowing graciously in acknowledgment, Philip moved away with his attendants, and proceeding to the lower end of the Green, entered the lieutenant’s lodgings, where he remained for some little time.
No sooner was the King gone, then Xit called out, in his shrillest tones,—
“A dance! a dance! Let us not separate without some mirthful pastime suited to the occasion. A dance, I say, and as the merriest and best, let us begin with a brawl.”
The proposition meeting with general concurrence, the minstrels began to play a very lively air, while the entire assemblage, with three exceptions, took hands, and formed an immense ring. The three persons excepted were the giants, whose stature forbade them to join in the dance; but as the others wheeled round them, they found it impossible to keep their limbs quiet, and began to execute such grotesque movements that the dancers were scarcely able to proceed for laughter.
