nish
nether-stock over the black Gascoigne hose, and mine host had just
winked to the guests around him, as who should say, "You will have mirth
presently, my masters," when the trampling of horses was heard in the
courtyard, and the hostler was loudly summoned, with a few of the newest
oaths then in vogue to add force to the invocation. Out tumbled Will
Hostler, John Tapster, and all the militia of the inn, who had slunk
from their posts in order to collect some scattered crumbs of the mirth
which was flying about among the customers. Out into the yard sallied
mine host himself also, to do fitting salutation to his new guests; and
presently returned, ushering into the apartment his own worthy nephew,
Michael Lambourne, pretty tolerably drunk, and having under his escort
the astrologer. Alasco, though still a little old man, had, by altering
his gown to a riding-dress, trimming his beard and eyebrows, and so
forth, struck at least a score of years from his apparent age, and
might now seem an active man of sixty, or little upwards. He appeared at
present exceedingly anxious, and had insisted much with Lambourne that
they should not enter the inn, but go straight forward to the place of
their destination. But Lambourne would not be controlled. "By Cancer and
Capricorn," he vociferated, "and the whole heavenly host, besides all
the stars that these blessed eyes of mine have seen sparkle in the
southern heavens, to which these northern blinkers are but farthing
candles, I will be unkindly for no one's humour--I will stay and salute
my worthy uncle here. Chesu! that good blood should ever be forgotten
betwixt friends!--A gallon of your best, uncle, and let it go round to
the health of the noble Earl of Leicester! What! shall we not collogue
together, and warm the cockles of our ancient kindness?--shall we not
collogue, I say?"

"With all my heart, kinsman," said mine host, who obviously wished to be
rid of him; "but are you to stand shot to all this good liquor?"

This is a question has quelled many a jovial toper, but it moved not
the purpose of Lambourne's soul, "Question my means, nuncle?" he said,
producing a handful of mixed gold and silver pieces; "question Mexico
and Peru--question the Queen's exchequer--God save her Majesty!--she is
my good Lord's good mistress."

"Well, kinsman," said mine host, "it is my business to sell wine to
those who can buy it--so, Jack Tapster, do me thine office. But I would
I knew how t