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His pride was hurt by this expression,
There fill’d his bumper to the top, And always fairly drank it up : "Well done,” says Jack, a buck of York, "You go thro' stitch, sir, with your work.' The name of stitch was such reproach, He
rang the bell, and call'd his coach. But ere he went, enquiries made, By what strange means they knew his trade.
“ You put the cap on, and it fits,”
THE MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES.--LE FEVE.
It happened once a certain man
say. Two wives he took ;—the one was young, And grace and beauty round her hung; The other was an ancient bride, And walking on life's down-hill side: They lived together, in one house, And tried their best to please their spouse.
Each treated him with tender care,
The elder dame was pleased to see
Those who would a new wife wed,
King. (Enters alone, wrapped in a cloak.) No, no, this can be no public road—that's certain. I have lost my way undoubtedly. Of what advantage is it now to be a king? Night shows me no respect; I cannot see better, nor walk so well as another man. When a king is lost in a wood, what is he more than other men ? His wisdom knows not which is north, and which is south; his power a beggar's dog would bark at, and the beggar himself would not bow to his greatness. And yet how often are we puffed up with these false attributes! Well, in losing the monarch, I have found the man. But hark ! somebody sure is near. What were it best to do? Will my majesty protect me? No. Throw majesty aside, then, and let manhood do it.
Enter the Miller. Miller. I believe I hear the rogue. Who's there? King. No rogue, I assure you. Miller. Little better, friend, I believe. Who fired that gun? King. Not I, indeed. Miller. You lie, I believe.
King. (Aside.) Lie, lie! How strange it seems to me to be talked to in this style! (Aloud.) Upon my word, I don't, sir.
Miller. Come, come, sirrah, confess. You have shot one of the king's deers, haven't you?
King. No, indeed; I owe the king more respect. I heard a gun go off, to be sure, and was afraid some robbers might have been near.
Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray, who are you? What's your name?
You have a name, haven't you? Where do you come from? What is your business here?
King. These are questions I have not been used to, honest
Miller. May be so; but they are questions no honest man would be afraid to answer; so, if you can give no better account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with me, if
King. With you! What authority have you to
Miller. The king's authority, if I must give you an account. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one of his majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood, and I will let no suspicious fellow pass this way, unless he can give a better account of himself than you have done, I promise you
King Very well, sir. I am very glad to hear the king has so good an officer; and since I find you have his authority, I will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me the favor to hear it.
Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe; but let 's hear what you can say for yourself.
King. I have the honor to belong to the king as well as you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way.
Miller. This does not sound well. If you have been a hunting, pray where is
horse? King. I have tired my horse so that he lay down under me. and I was obliged to leave him.
Miller. If I thought I might believe this, now-
Miller. What! do you live at court, and not lie ? That's a likely story, indeed! King. Be that as it will, I speak truth now,
assure you ; and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Nottingham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is something to pay you for your trouble-(offering money)—and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire.
Miller. Ay, now I am convinced you are a courtier: here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to morrow, both in a breath. Here, take it again—John Cockle is no courtier, He can do what he ought without a bribe.
King Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must own, and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted with thee.
Miller. Prithee, don't thee and thou me at this rate. I suppose I am as good a man as yourself, at least.
King Sir, I beg pardon.
Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only I don't love to be too familiar with you until I am satisfied as to your honesty.