“Well,” says he, “we were in one of the taverns near the river last night, the mate and I, and two or three of the crew, and there was drinking there with us three or four Portugals, merchants’ clerks with whom we had traded, and the like. We had ended all our business, and right glad we were to think that the morrow should see us leave this pestiferous place. Two of the men was mighty lively in their cups, and must needs brag concerning the greatness and power of England, little heeding that they were shaming her by their drunken ways. The other guests turned to look at ’em after a while, and presently a Jesuit priest, that was set at a table near at hand to us, spake out prodigious wrathfully in English. ‘Ye may boast of your country, gentlemen,’ says he, ‘but sure all her power can’t save the Englishman that’s to be burnt by the Inquisition to-morrow.’ Now at this we were very much moved, and cried out that the thing should be stopped, and we would see to’t. ‘Ough!’ says the priest, after the Irish manner, ‘’tis not nowadays that the English cannons will be heard at the gates of Goa, if such a thing be done.’ ‘By heaven!’ says I, ‘but they shall, if we can’t hinder this shameful deed.’ And with that we got the priest up in a corner, and threatening him with our hangers and fists, demanded that he should satisfy us whether that he said was true. And he held out stoutly against us for some time (the innkeeper meanwhile dancing about behind us like one possessed, and imploring of us not to bring disgrace and ruin upon his house by attacking a priest there), and I was much afraid lest some one should think to send and call the watch. But at last, seeing that all the other guests were fled, our men being prodigious ready with their blows, our friend vouchsafed to tell us that this Englishman came out of Surat, and that he should be burned at the third stake on the right-hand side of the line; ‘and as for his name’ (says he), ‘’tis wrote plain and large upon his _samarra_, the which ye would call a gown or cope. And more than this’ (quoth he), ‘I’ll not tell ye though ye keep me here until doomsday.’ And at that some with me wished to rend his gown, and chase him down the street with their swords; but I believed that he had told us that which we needed to know, and bade ’em leave him to me. So then I had him out of his corner, and bade him make the best of his way home, warning him, moreover, that if he should ever declare what he had told us, the Inquisition would have him. And at this he smiled in my face, with a mighty agreeable smile, and says he, ‘Ye know a prodigious deal concerning the Inquisition, though not so much as your friend that’s to be burnt to-morrow knows by this time. My blessing upon ye, my son.’ And with that he lift up his hand, and muttered some Latin _hocus-pocus_, and departed, the men making no attempt for to stop him, since they believed he had been muttering evil spells against us.”