"With all my heart, kinsman," said mine host, who obviously wished to be
rid of him; "but are you to stand shot to all this good liquor?"
This is a question has quelled many a jovial toper, but it moved not
the purpose of Lambourne's soul, "Question my means, nuncle?" he said,
producing a handful of mixed gold and silver pieces; "question Mexico
and Peru--question the Queen's exchequer--God save her Majesty!--she is
my good Lord's good mistress."
"Well, kinsman," said mine host, "it is my business to sell wine to
those who can buy it--so, Jack Tapster, do me thine office. But I would
I knew how to come by money as lightly as thou dost, Mike."
"Why, uncle," said Lambourne, "I will tell thee a secret. Dost see this
little old fellow here? as old and withered a chip as ever the devil put
into his porridge--and yet, uncle, between you and me--he hath Potosi
in that brain of his--'sblood! he can coin ducats faster than I can vent
oaths."
"I will have none of his coinage in my purse, though, Michael," said
mine host; "I know what belongs to falsifying the Queen's coin."
"Thou art an ass, uncle, for as old as thou art.--Pull me not by the
skirts, doctor, thou art an ass thyself to boot--so, being both asses, I
tell ye I spoke but metaphorically."
"Are you mad?" said the old man; "is the devil in you? Can you not let
us begone without drawing all men's eyes on us?"
"Sayest thou?" said Lambourne. "Thou art deceived now--no man shall see
you, an I give the word.--By heavens, masters, an any one dare to look
on this old gentleman, I will slash the eyes out of his head with
my poniard!--So sit down, old friend, and be merry; these are mine
ingles--mine ancient inmates, and will betray no man."
"Had you not better withdraw to a private apartment, nephew?" said
Giles Gosling. "You speak strange matter," he added, "and there be
intelligencers everywhere."
"I care not for them," said the magnanimous Michael--"intelligencers?
pshaw! I serve the noble Earl of Leicester.--Here comes the wine.--Fill
round, Master Skinker, a carouse to the health of the flower of England,
the noble Earl of Leicester! I say, the noble Earl of Leicester! He that
does me not reason is a swine of Sussex, and I'll make him kneel to the
pledge, if I should cut his hams and smoke them for bacon."