wilt find mighty good company. Therefore, once more I ask you in fair play, who thou art, and what thou seekest here?"
"If the dungeon-grate once clashes behind me," thought Wayland, "I am a gone man." He therefore answered submissively, "He was the poor juggler whom his honour had met yesterday in Weatherly Bottom."
"And what juggling trick art thou playing in this tower? Thy gang," said Lambourne, "lie over against Clinton's buildings."
"I came here to see my sister," said the juggler, "who is in Master Tressilian's chamber, just above."
"Aha!" said Lambourne, smiling, "here be truths! Upon my honour, for a stranger, this same Master Tressilian makes himself at home among us, and furnishes out his cell handsomely, with all sorts of commodities. This will be a precious tale of the sainted Master Tressilian, and will be welcome to some folks, as a purse of broad pieces to me.--Hark ye, fellow," he continued, addressing Wayland, "thou shalt not give Puss a hint to steal away we must catch her in her form. So, back with that pitiful sheep-biting visage of thine, or I will fling thee from the window of the tower, and try if your juggling skill can save your bones."
"Your worship will not be so hardhearted, I trust," said Wayland; "poor folk must live. I trust your honour will allow me to speak with my sister?"
"Sister on Adam's side, I warrant," said Lambourne; "or, if otherwise, the more knave thou. But sister or no sister, thou diest on point of
