me; they have not these fourscore years. And that is the reason I have made them my guides now in this journey: and they shall be my witnesses—when I get home again and sit, as I hope I shall, turning a crab by the fire—of what wonders I have been a beholder.
Cit. In good sadness, father, I am proud that such a heap of years lying on your back, you stoop no lower for them. I come short of you by more than twenty; and methinks I am both more unlusty and look more aged.
Coun. Oh, Sir, riots! riots! surfeits! surfeits stick white hairs upon young men's chins; when sparing diets hold colour. Your crammed capons feed you fat here in London; but our beef and bacon feed us strong in the country. Long sleeps and late watchings dry up your blood and wither your cheeks: we go to bed with the lamb and rise with the lark, which makes our blood healthful. You are still sen-ding to the apothecaries and still crying out to "fetch Master Doctor to me:" but our apothecary's shop is our garden full of potherbs, and our doctor is a good clove of garlic. I am as lusty and sound at heart, I praise my GOD, as my yoke of bullocks that are the servants to my plough.
Cit. Yet I wonder that having no more sand in the glass of your life—for young men may reckon years, but we old men must count upon minutes—I wonder, I say, how you durst set forth, and how you could come thus far.
Coun. How I durst set forth! If King HARRY were now alive again, I durst and would, as old and stiff as I am, go with him to Boulogne. We have trees in our town that bear fruit in winter. I am one of those winter plums; and though I taste a little sour, yet I am sound at heart and shall not rot yet I hope, for all this frost.
Cit. It were pity so reverend an oak should so soon be felled clown. You may stand and grow yet many a year. Coun. Yes, Sir, downward. Downward you and I must grow, like ears of corn when they be ripe. But I beseech you tell me. Is that goodly river of yours—I call it yours because you are a citizen, and that river is the nurse that gives milk and honey to your city—but is that lady of fresh waters all covered over with ice?
Cit. All over, I assure you, father. The frost hath made a floor upon it, which shows like grey marble roughly hewn
