at with the excitement of the day, the dazzling fancies
in his brain, his tired legs, the weird night noises in the town, and
strange, tremendous dreams, he scarce could get to sleep at all; but
toward morning he fell into a refreshing doze, and did not wake until
the town was loud with May.

CHAPTER IX

THE MAY-DAY PLAY

It was soon afternoon. All Coventry was thronged with people keeping
holiday, and at the Blue Boar a scene of wild confusion reigned.

Tap-room and hall were crowded with guests, and in the cobbled court
horses innumerable stamped and whinnied. The players, with knitted
brows, stalked about the quieter nooks, going over their several parts,
and looking to their costumes, which were for the most part upon their
backs; while the thumping and pounding of the carpenters at work upon
the stage in the inn-yard were enough to drive a quiet-loving
person wild.

Nick scarcely knew whether he were on his head or on his heels. The
master-player would not let him eat at all after once breaking his fast,
for fear it might affect his voice, and had him say his lines a hundred
times until he had them pat. Then he was off, directing here, there, and
everywhere, until the court was cleared of all that had no business
there, and the last surreptitious small boy had been duly projected
from the gates by Peter Hostler's hobnailed boot.

"Now, Nick," said Carew, coming up all in a gale, and throwing a
sky-blue silken cloak about Nick's shoulders, "thou'lt enter here"; and
he led him to a hallway door just opposite the gates. "When Master
Whitelaw, as the Duke, calls out, 'How now, who comes?--I'll match him
for the ale!' be quickly in and answer to thy part; and, marry, boy,
don't miss thy cues, or--tsst, thy head's not worth a peascod!" With
that he clapped his hand upon his poniard and glared into Nick's eyes,
as if to look clear through to the back of the boy's wits. Nick heard
his white teeth grind, and was all at once very much afraid of him, for
he did indeed look dreadful.

So Nicholas Attwood stood by the entry door, with his heart in his
throat, waiting his turn.

He could hear the pages in the courtyard outside shouting for stools for
their masters, and squabbling over the best places upon the stage. Then
the gates creaked, and there came a wild rush of feet and a great crying
out as the 'prentices and burghers trooped into the inn-yard, pushing
and crowding for places near the stage. Those who