"So it was you gave the King your horse at the Saint Martin's Gate! May Heaven reward you.

Gadswounds," he added, "I had little thought to meet you again this side the grave." "Would to Heaven you had not!" was the doleful answer.

"What make you here ?" "By your good leave and with your help I'll make as merry as a man may whose sands are all but run.

The Lord General--whom the devil roast in his time will make a pendulum of me at daybreak, and gives me the night in which to prepare." The lad came forward into the light, and eyed Sir Crispin sorrowfully.
"We are companions in misfortune, then." "Were we ever companions in aught else?
Come, sir, be of better cheer.
Since it is to be our last night in this poor world, let us spend it as pleasantly as may be." "Pleasantly ?" "Twill clearly be difficult," answered Crispin, with a laugh.

"Were we in Christian hands they'd not deny us a black jack over which to relish our last jest, and to warm us against the night air, which must be chill in this garret.