It is honour enough for the daughter of an old Devonshire clown to be the leman of a gay courtier--of Varney too--of Varney, whose grandsire was relieved by my father, when his fortune was broken, at the battle of--the battle of--where Richard was slain--out on my memory!--and I warrant none of you will help me--" "The battle of Bosworth," said Master Mumblazen--"stricken between Richard Crookback and Henry Tudor, grandsire of the Queen that now is, PRIMO HENRICI SEPTIMI; and in the year one thousand four hundred and eighty-five, POST CHRISTUM NATUM." "Ay, even so," said the old knight; "every child knows it.

But my poor head forgets all it should remember, and remembers only what it would most willingly forget.

My brain has been at fault, Tressilian, almost ever since thou hast been away, and even yet it hunts counter." "Your worship," said the good clergyman, "had better retire to your apartment, and try to sleep for a little space.

The physician left a composing draught; and our Great Physician has commanded us to use earthly means, that we may be strengthened to sustain the trials He sends us." "True, true, old friend," said Sir Hugh; "and we will bear our trials manfully--we have lost but a woman .-- See, Tressilian,"-- he drew from his bosom a long ringlet of glossy hair,--"see this lock! I tell thee, Edmund, the very night she disappeared, when she bid me good even, as she was wont, she hung about my neck, and fondled me more than usual; and I, like an old fool, held her by this lock, until she took her scissors, severed it, and left it in my hand--as all I was ever to see more of her!" Tressilian was unable to reply, well judging what a complication of feelings must have crossed the bosom of the unhappy fugitive at that cruel moment.

The clergyman was about to speak, but Sir Hugh interrupted him.
"I know what you would say, Master Curate,--After all, it is but a lock of woman's tresses; and by woman, shame, and sin, and death came into an innocent world .-- And learned Master Mumblazen, too, can say scholarly things of their inferiority." "C'EST L'HOMME," said Master Mumblazen, "QUI SE BAST, ET QUI CONSEILLE." "True," said Sir Hugh, "and we will bear us, therefore, like men who have both mettle and wisdom in us .-- Tressilian, thou art as welcome as if thou hadst brought better news.