od Nuncles (the
bishops), have you closely murthered the gentleman in some of your
prisons? Have you choaked him with a fat prebend or two? I trow my
father will swallow down no such pills, for he would thus soon purge
away all the conscience he hath. Do you mean to have the keeping of
him? What need that? he hath five hundred sons in the land. My father
would be sorry to put you to any such cost as you intend to be at with
him. A meaner house, and less strength than the Tower, the Fleet, or
Newgate, would serve him well enough. He is not of that ambitious vein
that many of his brethren the bishops are, in seeking for more costly
houses than even his father built for him."

This same "Martin Junior," who, though he is but young, as he says,
"has a pretty smattering gift in this pistle-making; and I fear, in a
while, I shall take a pride in it." He had picked up beside a bush,
where it had dropped from somebody, an imperfect paper of his
father's:--

"Theses Martinianae--set forth as an after-birth of the noble gentleman
himselfe, by a pretty stripling of his, Martin Junior, and dedicated
by him to his good nuncka, Maister John Cankerbury (i.e. Canterbury).
Printed without a sly privilege of the Cater Caps"--(i.e. the square
caps the bishops wore).

But another of these five hundred sons, who declares himself to be his
"reverend and elder brother, heir to the renowned _Martin Mar-Prelate_
the Great," publishes

"The just Censure and Reproof of Martin Junior; where, lest the
Springall should be utterly discouraged in his good meaning, you shall
finde that he is not bereaved of his due commendation."

_Martin Senior_, after finding fault with _Martin Junior_ for "his
rash and indiscreet headiness," notwithstanding agrees with everything
he had said. He confirms all, and cheers him; but charges him,

"Should he meet their father in the street, never to ask his blessing,
but walke smoothly and circumspectly; and if anie offer to talk with
thee of Martin, talke thou straite of the voyage into Portugal, or of
the happie death of the Duke of Guise, or some such accident; but
meddle not with thy father. Only, if thou have gathered anie thing in
visitation for thy father, intreate him to signify, in some secret
printed pistle, where a will have it lefte. I feare least some of us
should fall into John Canterburie's hand."

Such were the mysterious personages who, for a long time, haunted the
palaces of the bishops and the