"I do," said Doubletongue; "its my own news, man. It's what I am come to propound, to expound, and to promulgate. Only you will not bear with me. The Queen is stabbed, killed, and murdered; our good and gracious Queen hath been murdered, I say; now, there is my news."
"Heaven forbid!" said John Shakespeare, starting to his feet. "That would bode ill luck to England at this moment. Heard you this report, Master Cramboy?" he continued, addressing another of the townsmen who entered at the moment.
"Which report, and whence derived, neighbour?" said Cramboy (who was master of the free-school at Stratford); "for there be many rumours just now come into town; the difficulty is to get the true one."
"That relating to the death of the Queen by the hand of an assassin," returned John Shakespeare, "and just now given us by neighbour Doubletongue here."
"Where gott'st thou that news, goodman Doubletongue?" said the schoolmaster, with considerable asperity in his manner, "and how came you to take upon yourself to promulgate, disseminate, and divulge such a fable?"
"Nay," said Doubletongue, who stood somewhat in awe of the pedant, "I know no harm in relating what I have just heard from neighbour Suddle of our town."
"Out upon the barbarmonger," said Cramboy, "He is ever inventing one lie or other; I advise thee to shut thy ears against all his monstrous conceptions, and thy door against his visits. Know'st thou not, simple mercer as thou art, that to imagine the Queen's death is treasonable as to attempt her life. Ergo, thou hast committed, or rather aided in spreading the contagion of matter containing treason, and art particeps criminis with that lying knave Suddle, who goeth about seeking whom he may deceive."
"Nay," said Doubletongue, "if such be the case, I will myself go about to retrace my steps, and gainsay all I have said."
"'Twere best you did so," said Cramboy, "with the addition, Master Doubletongue, that for the future the good folks are never to believe any rumours either you or Suddle may bring them. And harkee, neighbour, when you are asked the real state of the case, you can tell your friends that it is not the Queen who has been stabbed, but the Prince of Orange. For that is the actual verity."
"Body o'me, but that is it, then, is it?" said Doubletongue: "well then, there has been a royal personage murdered, after all. Grant that, my veracity; grant that, and God be praised, therefore, I am not then altogether a liar. But stay, an I obey your first injunctions, good Master Cramboy, who will believe this second report at my hands? I shall scarce be credited, methinks."
"So much the better, neighbour," said Cramboy; "the less men credit in these days of trouble, always excepting holy writ, and the more they keep to their own affairs, the better for them. And therefore go not about at all; but sit ye down and fill your tankard, whilst I expound what really hath happened."
"One way or other, we shall at last learn the rights of this matter," said John Shakespeare, laughing; "you said but now, Master Cramboy, that the Prince of Orange hath been murdered?"
"At Delft, by the hands of a misguided fanatic, such is the awful story, John Shakespeare. For what saith the book? 'Villany that is vigilant will be an overmatch for virtue, if she slumbereth.' One Balthazar Gerard, a Burgundian, it seems has long entertained this design against the Prince of Orange, and, in order to destroy that famous restorer of religious liberty, has, at the same time, sacrificed his own life. On my word," continued the pedant, "these Jesuits are fearful fellows, and will murder us all in the end. Nay, it is affirmed the Spanish arms are making rapid progress in the Netherlands, and that Antwerp is ta'en. Truly, the Prince of Parma carries all before him in those parts. Nay, 'tis further said the States are reduced to such extremity, that they have sent an ambassador to London to offer to acknowledge our blessed Queen for their sovereign, providing always she will grant them her protection and assistance."
"And there it is," said Master Doubletongue, "there hath not been so bloody a wild beast seen ravening, burning, and destroying us poor Protestants, as that terrible Spaniard Philip since the world began. Heaven keep us from his hot pincers, his thumb-screws, his iron boots, his hostile intrigues, and cruel enterprises!"
"Amen, neighbour, say I," returned Master Cramboy, "though I marvel much you will allow your tongue so much liberty, neighbour, seeing that, as I firmly believe, Philip of Spain hath a paid spy and intelligencer in every town of the kingdom. Nay, his wicked designs are said to be fully directed against England at this moment."
"I trust no paid spy is to be found within my house, neighbour Cramboy," said John Shakespeare, laughing, "so that my worthy friend Doubletongue is quite at liberty to rail upon the Spaniard to his heart's content here."
"I meant nothing but in the way of caution to our good neighbour," said the pedant, "and whose tongue would be much the better for an occasional bridle, whilst the unrighteous are in sight. By the same token there are at this moment some half-dozen strangers staying at the hostel of the Checquers, whom none of us can fathom. Master Mumble, the headborough, talks of paying them a visit, and putting them to their purgation. Truly, we are in a dangerous condition, neighbour, and it behoves every one to look well to the main chance."
"I think with you," said John Shakespeare, "that our prospects seem not so fair as hitherto they have seemed. There is no question but that Philip of Spain, with all the power of his united empire, will fall upon England anon. His sole aim is the entire subjection of the Protestants. But come, since your news hath driven off my wife and all her children, let us even walk down to the Falcon and discuss these matters further. 'Tis now eight o'clock, and I dare be sworn the Dolphin parlour is well filled with guests. Heaven keep our blessed Queen in its own safety, for an these paid spies and jesuitical villains should hit her life, I fear me we shall be devoured by the wolf of Spain."
So saying, Master Shakespeare rose, and accompanied by his son and two fellow-townsmen, took their hats and sallied forth.
During the foregoing discussion so many bumpers had been tossed off by the two newsmongers, that Master Doubletongue was becoming a trifle double-sighted, whilst the pedant, who was sufficiently domineering over his neighbours on most occasions, was now rendered doubly important and overbearing.
"Methinks, Will," whispered the elder Shakespeare to his son, "you had better give Master Doubletongue the aid of your guidance, lest he measure his length in the gutter. He seems somewhat flustered, and inclined to quarrel with the road for not being of sufficient width."
"Thank ye, good William, thank ye," said the mercer, as he availed himself of the youth's assistance, "the causeway seems progressive to-night, the stones wherewith it is paved, ever and anon, do rise up to salute my nostrils, and there they come again."
"Now that's what I call a circumstance," said Cramboy, "neighbour Doubletongue has been fuddled every night before curfew, for the last twenty years of his life, and has not yet learnt to carry his liquor seemly. An the watch pass us they will be scandalized at his condition, and take us all up for being drunk at unseasonable hours in the streets. I pr'ythee, good William, convey him to his own door, and deposit him in safety there."
CHAPTER IX.
THE TAVERN.
When the pair reached the Falcon, they found a goodly assemblage in the "Dolphin" parlour of that hostel. This apartment was appropriated to a certain clique of jolly companions in the town, who often met together after business hours—a sapient and most self-important fraternity, which in our own times would have been designated a sort of club. They were indifferently ignorant upon all subjects unconnected with their respective trades and callings, and according to their ignorance was their importance and self-conceit.
Matters