tongues amongst us at Cumnor (as
where be there not?), who put an evil mark on men who pull their hat
over their brows, as if they were looking back to the days that are
gone, instead of enjoying the blithe sunshiny weather which God has sent
us in the sweet looks of our sovereign mistress, Queen Elizabeth, whom
Heaven long bless and preserve!"

"Why, mine host," answered the stranger, "there is no treason, sure, in
a man's enjoying his own thoughts, under the shadow of his own bonnet?
You have lived in the world twice as long as I have, and you must know
there are thoughts that will haunt us in spite of ourselves, and to
which it is in vain to say, Begone, and let me be merry."

"By my sooth," answered Giles Gosling, "if such troublesome thoughts
haunt your mind, and will not get them gone for plain English, we will
have one of Father Bacon's pupils from Oxford, to conjure them away with
logic and with Hebrew--or, what say you to laying them in a glorious red
sea of claret, my noble guest? Come, sir, excuse my freedom. I am an old
host, and must have my talk. This peevish humour of melancholy sits ill
upon you; it suits not with a sleek boot, a hat of trim block, a fresh
cloak, and a full purse. A pize on it! send it off to those who have
their legs swathed with a hay-wisp, their heads thatched with a felt
bonnet, their jerkin as thin as a cobweb, and their pouch without ever
a cross to keep the fiend Melancholy from dancing in it. Cheer up,
sir! or, by this good liquor, we shall banish thee from the joys
of blithesome company, into the mists of melancholy and the land of
little-ease. Here be a set of good fellows willing to be merry; do not
scowl on them like the devil looking over Lincoln."

"You say well, my worthy host," said the guest, with a melancholy smile,
which, melancholy as it was, gave a very pleasant: expression to his
countenance--"you say well, my jovial friend; and they that are moody
like myself should not disturb the mirth of those who are happy. I will
drink a round with your guests with all my heart, rather than be termed
a mar-feast."

So saying, he arose and joined the company, who, encouraged by the
precept and example of Michael Lambourne, and consisting chiefly of
persons much disposed to profit by the opportunity of a merry meal at
the expense of their landlord, had already made some inroads upon the
limits of temperance, as was evident from the tone in which Michael
inquired after his ol