At length, when Kenneth announced that it was done, he bade the Puritan rise.
"But have a care," he added, "or you shall taste the joys of the Paradise you preach of.

Come, sir parson; afoot!" A prey to a fear that compelled unquestioning obedience, the fellow rose with alacrity.
"Stand there, sir.

So," commanded Crispin, his point within an inch of the man's Geneva bands.

"Take your kerchief, Kenneth, and pinion his wrists behind him." That done, Crispin bade the lad unbuckle and remove the parson's belt.
Next he ordered that man of texts to be seated upon their only chair, and with that same belt he commanded Kenneth to strap him to it.

When at length the Puritan was safely bound, Crispin lowered his rapier, and seated himself upon the table edge beside him.
"Now, sir parson," quoth he, "let us talk a while.