------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. WHAT PASSED BETWEEN MASTER RODOMONT BITTERN AND THE PRINCE. As soon as the street was clear, Osbert inquired whether his Highness would proceed as far as the Bar-gate, but Philip having now seen enough, declined, and they began to retrace their steps. The tipplers in the houses were still at their cups. Some of them, it is true, had staggered to the windows on hearing Sir Bevis and his _cortége_ pass, but by this time they had got back to the bottle. However, a party of half-inebriate guests issued from a large house so suddenly, that the Prince and Osbert had no time to get out of their way, but were instantly surrounded. “Ah! who have we here?” cried one of these roysterers, struck by Philip’s haughty air. “By the life of the Emperor Charles V., a Spanish grandee! Perchance, one of the Prince’s suite.” “You are right, Sir,” interposed Osbert; “this noble cavalier is but newly-arrived at Southampton with his Highness the Prince of Spain, and, having come ashore on business, is now returning to his ship.” “How does the noble cavalier style himself?” demanded the other. “Call me Don Philip—that will suffice,” said the Prince, haughtily. “Bezo las manos, Señor Don Felipe,” rejoined the other, taking off his cap. “Your lordship is right welcome to Southampton. Suffer me to introduce myself to you as Master Rodomont Bittern, a caballero y hombre de honor, who will be proud to do your lordship a service. These are my friends, Nick Simnel and Jack Holiday—both caballeros like myself, and courageous and haughty as bulls. Be known to Don Philip, señores. If your lordship will permit us, we will escort you to the quay.” “Ay, and go on board with his lordship, an he likes our company,” cried Simnel. “We are in the humour for an adventure.” “I am ready for aught, save the couch,” said Jack Holiday. “Don Philip will find us jolly cocks, that I promise him.” “Why should not Don Philip, if he be not pressed, enter worthy Master Tyrrell’s house, and crush a flask of Bourdeaux?” said another of the party. “He shall be welcome, I will answer for it.” “Ah, that he shall, good Master Huttoft,” cried the host, who was standing in his doorway, and heard what was passing. “He shall have the best my cellar can produce. I pray you, noble Sir, come in.” “Enter by all means,” said Rodomont to the Prince. “Master Tyrrell is well worth knowing. He is the richest merchant we have—richer than the Italian merchants Nicolini and Guidotti, who dwell near St. John’s. Master Tyrrell is a descendant of the famous brothers Gervase and Protasius, who founded the hospital of God’s House. His daughter, Constance, is surnamed the Pearl of Southampton. A ravishing creature, I vow. You will lose your heart the instant you behold her. Your Andalusian beauties are nothing to her.”