Such was the strange and laughable humour of the man, that I could scarce avoid a smile even then to hear him. He took such infinite delight in a jest, as I have never seen equalled, and had a droll fashion of playing the philosopher with regard to untoward chances, that brought some diversion and even consolation therein. But he could not now treat me with any more of his philosophy, for the officers, having finished the searching of my boxes, came now for to search me also. And so well was this searching done, that they took from me even such little matters as the thieves in the prison had left me, among them his highness the Viceroy’s ring, the which I had contrived to hide, and gave back to me only my handkercher, which was but a coarse one, and not laced. Seeing that they had placed aside my books, which, in truth, were not many, but very dear and precious to me, I entreated that they would suffer me to keep them; but the secretary, through Father Theodorus, told me that no books was allowed in the Holy House. My comb even they also took away from me, saying I should have no need on’t, which indeed was true, since they brought a barber at once for to cut off my hair. Now this was very thick and long, so that I was extreme loath to lose it, nor has it ever grown since as it should do. “Sure, ’tis a Roundhead ye are become in your old age, my boy,” said Father Theodorus; but so grieved was I that I could not bring up a smile for his untimely jest. And thus cropped like unto a Puritan or a madman, they led me to my cell. And this was situate on the higher floor of one of the squares of buildings into the which this place is divided; for on each floor are seven or eight cells, opening on a gallery, and each cell is some ten foot square. And here they left me, desiring that I might find myself altogether comfortable there, and the two doors (whereof more hereafter) were locked.