Kings & rulers > Kenilworth > Volume 1

KENILWORTH.
13
ef e thou comest to the Spittal; but the sea hath a
bottomless appetite, she would swallow the wealth
of Lombard Street in a morning, as easily as I
would a poached egg and a cup of clary—and for
my kinsman’s Eldorado, never trust me if I do
not believe he has found it in the pouches of some
such gulls as thyself.—But take no snuff in the
nose about it; fall to and welcome, for here comes
the supper, and I heartily bestow it on all that
will take share, in honour of my hopeful nephew’s
return, always trusting that he has come home
another man.—In faith, kinsman, thou art as like
my poor sister as ever was son to mother.”
“ Not quite so like old Benedict Lambourne
her husband, though,” said the mercer, nodding
and winking. “ Doest thou remember, Mike,
what thou saidst when the schoolmaster’s ferule
was over thee for striking up thy father’s crutches?
—it is a wise child, saidst thou, that knows its
own father. Dr. Bricham laughed till he cried
again, and his crying saved yours.”
“ Well, he made it up to me many a day
after,” said Lambourne ; “ and how is the worthy
pedagogue ?”
“ Dead,” said Giles Gosling, “ this many a day
since.”
“ That he is,” said the clerk of the parish; “ I
sat by his bed the whilst—He passed away in a
blessed frame, ‘ Morior—mortuus sum vel fui—
mori'—These were his latest words, and he just
added, ‘ my last verb is conjugated.’ ”
“Well, peace be with him,” said Mike, “he
owes me nothing.”
“ No, truly,” replied Goldthred ; “ and every
lash which he laid on thee, he always was wont
to say, he spared the hangman a labour.”
“ One would have thought he left him little to
do then,” said the clerk; and yet Goodman