it two goblets. My lord broke off in the
midst of an account of the morning's bear-baiting which the tediousness
of the Indians had caused us to miss. "Who knows if we three shall
ever drink together again?" he said. "To honor this bout I use my most
precious cups." Voice and manner were free and unconstrained. "This gold
cup "--he held it up--"belonged to the Medici. Master Pory, who is a man
of taste, will note the beauty of the graven maenads upon this side, and
of the Bacchus and Ariadne upon this. It is the work of none other than
Benvenuto Cellini. I pour for you, sir." He filled the gold cup with
the ruby wine and set it before the Secretary, who eyed it with all the
passion of a lover, and waited not for us, but raised it to his lips
at once. My lord took up the other cup. "This glass," he continued, "as
green as an emerald, freckled inside and out with gold, and shaped like
a lily, was once amongst a convent's treasures. My father brought it
from Italy, years ago. I use it as he used it, only on gala days. I fill
to you, sir." He poured the wine into the green and gold and twisted
bauble and set it before me, then filled a silver goblet for himself.
"Drink, gentlemen," he said.

"Faith, I have drunken already," quoth the Secretary, and proceeded
to fill for himself a second time. "Here's to you, gentlemen!" and he
emptied half the measure.

"Captain Percy does not drink," remarked my lord.

I leaned my elbow upon the table, and, holding up the glass against the
light, began to admire its beauty. "The tint is wonderful," I said, "as
lucent a green as the top of the comber that is to break and overwhelm
you. And these knobs of gold, within and without, and the strange shape
the tortured glass has been made to take. I find it of a quite sinister
beauty, my lord."

"It hath been much admired," said the nobleman addressed.

"I am strangely suited, my lord," I went on, still dreamily enjoying
the beauty of the green gem within my clasp. "I am a soldier with an
imagination. Sometimes, to give the rein to my fancy pleases me more
than wine. Now, this strange chalice,--might it not breed dreams as
strange?"

"When I had drunken, I think," replied my lord. "The wine would be a
potent spur to my fancy."

"What saith honest Jack Falstaff?" broke in the maudlin Secretary. "Doth
he not bear testimony that good sherris maketh the brain apprehensive
and quick; filleth it with nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, whic