Citation and Examination of William Shakspeare | Page 6

Another time,-- anon! We have our quarterly sessions; we are many together. At present I remand--"
And now, indeed, unless Sir Silas had taken his worship by the sleeve, he would may-hap have remanded the lad. But Sir Silas, still holding the sleeve and shaking it, said, hurriedly, -
"Let me entreat your worship to ponder. What black does the fellow talk of? My blood and bile rose up against the rogue; but surely I did not turn black in the face, or in the mouth, as the fellow calls it?"
Whether Master Silas had some suspicion and inkling of the cause or not, he rubbed his right hand along his face and lips, and, looking upon it, cried aloud, -
"Ho, ho! is it off? There is some upon my finger's end, I find. Now I have it,--ay, there it is. That large splash upon the centre of the table is tallow, by my salvation! The profligates sat up until the candle burned out, and the last of it ran through the socket upon the board. We knew it before. I did convey into my mouth both fat and smut!"
"Many of your cloth and kidney do that, good Master Silas, and make no wry faces about it," quoth the youngster, with indiscreet merriment, although short of laughter, as became him who had already stepped too far and reached the mire.
To save paper and time, I shall now, for the most part, write only what they all said, not saying that they said it, and just copying out in my clearest hand what fell respectively from their mouths.
SIR SILAS.
"I did indeed spit it forth, and emunge my lips, as who should not?"
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.
"Would it were so!"
SIR SILAS.
"WOULD IT WERE SO! in thy teeth, hypocrite!"
SIR THOMAS.
"And, truly, I likewise do incline to hope and credit it, as thus paraphrased and expounded."
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
"Wait until this blessed day next year, sir, at the same hour. You shall see it forth again at its due season; it would be no miracle if it lasted. Spittle may cure sore eyes, but not blasted mouths and scald consciences."
SIR THOMAS.
"Why! who taught thee all this?"
Then turned he leisurely toward Sir Silas, and placing his hand outspreaden upon the arm of the chaplain, said unto him in a low, judicial, hollow voice, -
"Every word true and solemn! I have heard less wise saws from between black covers."
Sir Silas was indignant at this under-rating, as he appeared to think it, of the church and its ministry, and answered impatiently, with Christian freedom, -
"Your worship surely will not listen to this wild wizard in his brothel-pulpit!"
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.
"Do I live to hear Charlecote Hall called a brothel-pulpit? Alas, then, I have lived too long!"
SIR SILAS.
"We will try to amend that for thee."
William seemed not to hear him, loudly as he spake and pointedly unto the youngster, who wiped his eyes, crying, -
"Commit me, sir! in mercy commit me! Master Ephraim! Oh, Master Ephraim! A guiltless man may feel all the pangs of the guilty! Is it you who are to make out the commitment? Dispatch! dispatch. I am a-weary of my life. If I dared to lie, I would plead guilty."
SIR THOMAS.
"Heyday! No wonder, Master Ephraim, thy entrails are moved and wamble. Dost weep, lad? Nay, nay; thou bearest up bravely. Silas, I now find, although the example come before me from humble life, that what my mother said was true--'t was upon my father's demise-- 'In great grief there are few tears.'"
Upon which did the youth, Willy Shakspeare, jog himself by the memory, and repeat these short verses, not wide from the same purport:
"There are, alas, some depths of woe Too vast for tears to overflow."
SIR THOMAS.
"Let those who are sadly vexed in spirit mind that notion, whoever indited it, and be men. I always was; but some little griefs have pinched me woundily."
Master Silas grew impatient, for he had ridden hard that morning, and had no cushion upon his seat, as Sir Thomas had. I have seen in my time that he who is seated on beech-wood hath very different thoughts and moralities from him who is seated on goose-feathers under doe-skin. But that is neither here nor there, albeit, an' I die, as I must, my heirs, Judith and her boy Elijah, may note it.
Master Silas, as above, looked sourishly, and cried aloud, -
"The witnesses! the witnesses! testimony! testimony! We shall now see whose black goes deepest. There is a fork to be had that can hold the slipperiest eel, and a finger that can strip the slimiest. I cry your worship to the witnesses."
SIR THOMAS.
"Ay, indeed, we are losing the day; it wastes toward noon, and nothing done. Call the witnesses. How are they called by name? Give me the paper."
The paper being forthwith delivered into his worship's hand by the