“Like those of a jackanape simpering at a chestnut,” said Michael Lambourne.
———“Up started of a sudden,” continued Goldthred, without heeding the interruption, “Tony Foster himself, with a cudgel in his hand”———
“And broke thy head across, I hope, for thine impertinence,” said his entertainer.
“That were more easily said than done,” answered Goldthred, indignantly; “no, no—there was no breaking of heads—it’s true, he advanced his cudgel, and spoke of laying on, and asked why I did not keep the public road, and such like; and I would have knocked him over the pate handsomely for his pains, only for the lady’s presence, who might have swooned, for what I know.”
“Now, out upon thee for a faint-spirited slave!” said Lambourne; “what adventurous knight ever thought of the lady’s terror, when he went to thwack giant, dragon, or magician, in her presence, and for her deliverance? But why talk to thee of dragons, who would be driven back by a dragon-fly. There thou hast missed the rarest opportunity!”
“Take it thyself, then, bully Mike,” answered Goldthred.—“Yonder is the enchanted manor, and the dragon, and the lady, all at thy service, if thou darest venture on them.”
“Why, so I would for a quartern of sack,” said the soldier—“Or, stay—I am foully out of linen—wilt thou bet a piece of Hollands against these five angels, that I go not up to the Hall to-morrow, and force Tony Foster to introduce me to his fair guest?”
“I accept your wager,” said the mercer; “and
