Part 6 (2/2)
A CHAPTER OF CHEATS
On the morrow I rose very contrite for the p.r.o.neness of my mind towards pleasures, and calling to remembrance with an excessive sadness, that protestation of our bailiff's against stage-plays and unG.o.dly shows.
Indeed I began to fear lest Mr. Richard should prove altogether a perverter of my youth, and promised myself I would avoid his company henceforward, nor inquire any further after Campaspe and the rest.
Which resolved upon, I felt joyfuller (as a man's recovered virtue doth generally induce that comfortable feeling) and took pleasure in the thought that I was this day to relieve the oppressed, and succour them that were in prison: or at least one of them.
But all these salutary thoughts broke a-scatter, when, chancing to cast an eye across the street, I saw my gallant that I had withstood yesterday, again set in his barber's chair, where he indolently reclined; and the barber dancing before him like a second David with razor for timbrel. An instant desire took me, to know who my late adversary might be (so that in any future debate I might have a name to clap villain to) and bethought me of an easy way whereby to satisfy myself. Having patiently awaited his departure therefore, I stole downstairs and over the lane; mounted to the barber's, three steps at once, and was in his chair demanding to be shaved ere a man could tell three score.
”Your wors.h.i.+p does me a great honour,” cried the antick fellow, ”and I will dispatch your business in a trice,” which he did, my beard being, I confess, no great thing as yet.
”Your house is well spoken of,” I said carelessly, when he had done, and I stood cleansing my chin at the basin.
”It is well attended,” he replied, bowing, ”and that by the best.”
”Tell me some that use it,” I said in a meditative manner, ”it may hap that I know them.”
”There is John a Nokes,” replied the barber, with alacrity, ”that is host of the Chequers; but he comes. .h.i.ther no more. And there is Mr.
Nicholas Lovel, that promised me he would come on Wednesday last, though indeed he failed so to do; and there is moreover the Master of the Wors.h.i.+pful Company of Painter Stainers whom I used to meet with at their great hall in Trinity Lane.”
”And him you shave,” said I, seeing that he paused there.
”Nay, for he hath a singular great beard,” he said, ”and when he sits in Council amidst his Company of the Painter Stainers there is none appeareth more lofty and wors.h.i.+pful than he. I have been a serving man there,” he added with a conspicuous pride, ”and worn their livery, so that it behoveth me to speak well of them, and to pray for their continuance in prosperity.”
”That is all as it should be,” quoth I, ”but for my question, good master barber, I do not find you have answered it.”
”Cry you mercy,” said the little barber with an innocent air, ”but methought I had answered you full and fairly.”
”Hath any come hither this morning,” I demanded, ”besides myself?”
”It is still very early, sir,” he replied, rubbing his hands together the while, ”but I hope at noon, now, by the which hour as you know, a man's beard commenceth to p.r.i.c.k sorely...”
”Hold!” I cried, ”I speak not of your hopes, but of your performance.
Have you shaved any man this day?”
”Oh, none, sir,” he replied, as though it were a thing indecent, and I shocked him.
”You lie,” said I coolly, ”for one went forth but now.”
The barber: ”Surely you mistake, sir ... but now I bethink me it was no doubt my lord of Pembroke.”
”So then my lord of Pembroke serves my lord of Pembroke, belike,” I answered, laughing sourly, ”and weareth his cast suits, as did he that went hence.”
I never saw a man so taken aback, and all his graces drooped about him like a sere garland.
”Come, sir,” said I at length, in a great voice, for I was both wrathful at this fetch, and feared something behind it, ”who is this black-a-vised tall man in brave apparel, that you shave each morning?”
”Oh, good Mr. Cleeve,” he cried out trembling, but got no further, for I had him by the collar.
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