At last we had made our way to more quiet streets, and were hoping that our adventures were at an end, when of a sudden there came a rush of half-drunken cavaliers from a side street, who set upon the passers-by with their swords, as though we had fallen into an ambuscade of savages in some Paynim country.

They were, as I surmise, of the same breed as those of whom the excellent John Milton wrote: "The sons of Belial, flown with insolence and wine." Alas! my memory is not what it was, for at one time I could say by rote whole books of that noble and godly poem.' 'And, pray, how fared ye with these rufflers, sir ?' I asked.
'They beset us, and some few other honest citizens who were wending their ways homewards, and waving their naked swords they called upon us to lay down our arms and pay homage.

"To whom ?" I asked.

They pointed to one of their number who was more gaudily dressed and somewhat drunker than the rest.

"This is our most sovereign liege," they cried.
"Sovereign over whom ?" I asked.