"There is little love between town and gown there, and unless you like knocks, you had better send your letter by the hand of one who does." "I mind no knocks," said I, groaning a little at the memory of some I had received that very evening; "besides, I am bound to give my letter by my own hand." "Then," said he, "take my cap and gown: they are no use to me and may be a passport to you.

Lend me your cloak in exchange.

It will serve to hide me, while it would but betray you as an intruder inside Oxford." "This cloak," said I, "is the gift of my dear mistress in London.

But perhaps your advice is good.

I will go into Oxford in a scholar's garb, and you meanwhile shall shelter here in my cloak till I return about noon.