Page:The Folk-Lore Journal Volume 7 1889.djvu/479

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MOURICE DANCKllS AT REVESBY. 343

drawing out his own Sword, and the Fool dancing about the Room ; Pickle Herring takes him by the collar, and says Father, Father, you are so merrylly disposed this good Time, there is no talking to you ; here is very bad News.

Fool. Very good News ; I am glad to hear it ; I do not hear good News every Day.

Pickle Herring. It is very bad News.

Fool. Why, what is the matter now, Boy ?

Pickle Herring. We have all concluded to cut off your Head.

Fool. Be mercyfull to me, a Sinner ; if you should do as you have said, there is no such Thing ; I would not lose my son Pickle Herring for Fifty Pounds.

Pickle Herring. It is your son. Pickle Herring, that must lose you ; it is your Head we desire to take off.

Fool. My Head; I never had my Head taken off in all my life.

Pickle Herring. You both must and shall.

Fool. Hold, hold. Boy, thou seem'st to be in good earnest, but I'll tell the where I'll be buryed.

Pickle Herring. Why where will you be buried but in the Church Yard, where other People are buried ?

Fool. Churchyard, I never was buried there in all my life.

Pickle Herring. Why, where will you be buried ?

Fool. Ah, Boy, I am often dry ; I will be buried in Mr. Mirfin's Ale Celler.

Pickle Herring. It is such a place as I never heard talk off, in all my life.

Fool. No, nor nobody else. Boy.

Pickle Herring. What is your fancy to be buried there?

Fool. Ah, Boy, I am oftens dry, and when they come to fill the Quart, I'll drink it off, and they will wonder what is the matter.

Pickle Herring. How can you do so when you will be dead ? We shall take your Head from your Body, and you will be dead.

Fooi-. If I must die, I will dye with my face to the light for all you.