Woodstock

to — You have known

CB

yed itself both in words and actions, and had been first observed in that sudden and striking change, when, abandoning entirely the dissolute freaks of his youth, he embraced a very strict course of religious observances, which, upon some occasions, he seemed to consider as bringing him into more near and close contact with the spiritual world. This extraordinary man is said sometimes, during that period of his life,

e infirmities of men high in power; and he was left so long by himself, as induced him to entertain some secret doubts, whether the General might not be tempted to take means of confining or removing

peared, after a lapse of about an hour, and, intimating to Wildrake that he was to follow, conducted him into a distant apartment, in which he found the General seated on a cou

em? Why, the word King is like a lighted lamp, that throws the same bright gilding upon any combination of the alphabet, and yet you must shed your blood for a name! But thou, for thy part, shalt have no wrong from me. Here is an order, well warranted, to clear the Lodge at Woodstock, and abandon it to thy master’s keeping, or those whom he shall appoint. He will have his uncle and pretty cousin with him, doubtless. Fare thee well — think on what I told thee. They say beauty is a loadstone to yonder long lad thou dost wot of; but I reckon he has other stars at present to direct his course than bright eyes and fa

ned his round-head friend, who was anxiously expecting h

een? — what strange uncertainty is in thy

, “you ask so many questions at once. A man has but one tongue to

say thou hast tried that spell at every ale-house on the

rake, “I have not tasted so much

“salve thy sore with brandy, if thou wilt, but leave being so fan

d the cavalier, very grav

ry hour of the day. Come, good now, tell me, hast thou seen the General,

Wildrake, “and have, as thou s

,” said Everard, ca

not my purpose to tell thee — what manner of hopes are founded on thy accepting it, I have that opinion of thee, Mark Everard

n draughted and drained of those who were courageous enough to maintain their own freedom of opinion, is now reduced to a handful of statesmen, who have lost the respect of the people, from the length of time during which they have held the supreme management of affairs. They cannot stand long unless they were to reduce the army; and the army, late servants, are now masters, and will refuse to be reduced. They know their strength, and that they may be an army subsisting on pay and free quarters throughout England as long as they will. I tell thee, Wildrake, unless we look to the only man who can rule and manage them, we may expect milita

hat I like it better than I expected. The army is your bear now, and old Noll is your bearward; and you are like a country constable, who makes interest with the bearward that he may prevent him from letting br

well. “It is bolder and more peremptory than I expected,” he said. “The General must feel himself str

tate to act upon i

from the Lodge. I must not go altogether upon military authority, if possible.” Then, stepping to the door of the apartment, he despatched a servant of the h

in these days, when one sword is worth fifty corporation charters. But there are dragoons yonder, as well as the grim-faced kna

ts of Parliament,” said Everard. —“But it is time thou eatest, i

will serve me one while, if I am ever able to digest it. By the mass, it lay so heavy on my conscien

rd. “I know thy way — thou art ever wont to pull thy hat off rever

hich we offer in a palace? It is a dainty matter, is it not, to see your Anabaptists, and Brownists, and the rest of you, gat

alteration had taken place in the manners and outward behaviour at least of his companion. His demeanour frequently evinced a sort of struggle betwixt old habits of indulgence, and some newly formed resolutions of abstinence; and it was almost ludicrous to see how often the hand

. But honest Wildrake had been dreadfully frightened at the course proposed to him by Cromwell, and, with a feeling not peculiar to the Catholic religion, had formed a solemn resolution within his own mind, that, if he came off safe and with h

dent determination, he touched neither the ale nor the brandy which were placed before him, and declined peremptorily the sack with which his friend would have garnished the board. Nevertheless, just as the boy removed the trenchers and napkins, together with the large black-jack which we have already mentioned, and was one or two steps on his way to the door, the sinewy arm of the c

e bottom of the pitcher, Everard had great doubts whether the drinker and the cup were likely to part until the whole contents of the latter had been transf

ne which inferred some dread of his constancy, and then, turning to his friend Everard, he expatiated in praise of moderation, observing, that

ht, as some more moderate topers might have effected if they had sat sipping for an evening. But the subject was changed by the entrance of the landlord, who ca