"I tell thee," said Lambourne, leading the way into the turnkey's
apartment, "thou art an ass. Go bolt the wicket on the stair, and
trouble not thy noddle about ghosts. Give me the wine stoup, man; I am
somewhat heated with chafing with yonder rascal."
While Lambourne drew a long draught from a pitcher of claret, which he
made use of without any cup, the warder went on, vindicating his own
belief in the supernatural.
"Thou hast been few hours in this Castle, and hast been for the whole
space so drunk, Lambourne, that thou art deaf, dumb, and blind. But we
should hear less of your bragging were you to pass a night with us at
full moon; for then the ghost is busiest, and more especially when a
rattling wind sets in from the north-west, with some sprinkling of rain,
and now and then a growl of thunder. Body o' me, what crackings and
clashings, what groanings and what howlings, will there be at such times
in Mervyn's Bower, right as it were over our heads, till the matter of
two quarts of distilled waters has not been enough to keep my lads and
me in some heart!"
"Pshaw, man!" replied Lambourne, on whom his last draught, joined to
repeated visitations of the pitcher upon former occasions, began to make
some innovation, "thou speakest thou knowest not what about spirits. No
one knows justly what to say about them; and, in short, least said may
in that matter be soonest amended. Some men believe in one thing, some
in another--it is all matter of fancy. I have known them of all sorts,
my dear Lawrence Lock-the-door, and sensible men too. There's a great
lord--we'll pass his name, Lawrence--he believes in the stars and the
moon, the planets and their courses, and so forth, and that they twinkle
exclusively for his benefit, when in sober, or rather in drunken truth,
Lawrence, they are only shining to keep honest fellows like me out
of the kennel. Well, sir, let his humour pass; he is great enough to
indulge it. Then, look ye, there is another--a very learned man, I
promise you, and can vent Greek and Hebrew as fast as I can Thieves'
Latin he has an humour of sympathies and antipathies--of changing lead
into gold, and the like; why, via, let that pass too, and let him pay
those in transmigrated coin who are fools enough to let it be current
with them. Then here comest thou thyself, another great man, though
neither learned nor noble, yet full six feet high, and thou, like a
purblind mole, must needs believe in ghosts and goblins, and such like.
Now, there is, besides, a great man--that is, a great little man, or a
little great man, my dear Lawrence--and his name begins with V, and what
believes he? Why, nothing, honest Lawrence--nothing in earth, heaven, or
hell; and for my part, if I believe there is a devil, it is only because
I think there must be some one to catch our aforesaid friend by the back
'when soul and body sever,' as the ballad says; for your antecedent will
have a consequent--RARO ANTECEDENTEM, as Doctor Bircham was wont to say.
But this is Greek to you now, honest Lawrence, and in sooth learning is
dry work. Hand me the pitcher once more."