Drunk! odds blades and poniards, he that would refuse to swallow a dozen healths on such an evening is a base besognio, and a puckfoist, and shall swallow six inches of my dagger!" "Hark ye, scoundrel," said Varney, "be sober on the instant--I command thee.

I know thou canst throw off thy drunken folly, like a fool's coat, at pleasure; and if not, it were the worse for thee." Lambourne drooped his head, left the apartment, and returned in two or three minutes with his face composed, his hair adjusted, his dress in order, and exhibiting as great a difference from his former self as if the whole man had been changed.
"Art thou sober now, and dost thou comprehend me ?" said Varney sternly.
Lambourne bowed in acquiescence.
"Thou must presently down to Cumnor Place with the reverend man of art who sleeps yonder in the little vaulted chamber.

Here is the key, that thou mayest call him by times.

Take another trusty fellow with you.

Use him well on the journey, but let him not escape you--pistol him if he attempt it, and I will be your warrant.