“’Twas but this morning you counselled me not to be led astray from my profession that is to be, sir,” says I; “and I’ve thought things over, and decided to follow your wise advice. If I am to be Lord Chancellor, ’tis time I gave more heed to my books.” “Tut, tut!” says he, still more peevish, for his toe began to tweak him again. “Since morning, lad, a good many things have happened. We must needs deny ourselves for the king’s sake, and ’tis my wish that you should assist our neighbours in keeping Pomfret Castle for His Majesty. Say no more on’t: Sir Jarvis, fill your glass.” “I doubt the prospect of war has little charm for thee, Master Dick,” says Sir Jarvis, eying me in a fashion I had no liking for. “I am not a soldier,” says I, putting as much ill-humour into my voice as I could, for I was playing a part, and wished to do it well. “And I am not minded to engage in brawls----” “Brawls!” he cries. “’Sdeath, lad, thou hadst best not use that word before one of His Majesty’s officers! Brawls, quotha! Why, boy----” “Fie on thee, Dick!” says my uncle. “Fie! Brawls, indeed! Why, ’tis the most righteous of quarrels into which His Majesty hath entered. Say no more, Sir Jarvis; the lad hath been bred to papers and books, but he will fight well enough, I warrant you, when he is once shown the trick of the thing. I wish I had had thee trained in fence, Dick; but I never thought there would be occasion for thy use of it. Sir Jarvis, help yourself to the bottle. Nay, man, be not sparing--who knows what there may not be in store of hard work to-morrow? If it were not for this plaguey gout of mine, I would help you more freely; but, i’faith, friend, I am in sore pain, and will ask your leave to go to my bed. Dick, play the host to Sir Jarvis, boy. Spare not the Tokay, Sir Jarvis--Gregory will serve you.” Now, when Gregory and Barbara between them had helped my uncle to his own chamber, Sir Jarvis and I sat before the fire, not over lively companions. He smoked his tobacco, and from time to time refilled his glass, and now and then he cast sidelong glances at me, who watched him out of my eye-corners. “Thou art not too fond of the king, then, Master Dick?” says he at last, glancing at me. “Sir,” says I; “I know no reason why I should discuss His Majesty with you or any man.” “Aye,” says he; “I have heard that answer before, and know what it means, lad. Faith, you may deceive the old knight upstairs, but not the one that sits with you down below. I have heard there is disaffection amongst some of you young Oxford sparks--aye, I heard it a six-month since.” “’Tis a matter of complete indifference to me, sir,” I says, as cool as I could. “’Od’s body, lad!” he exclaims with a sudden fervour. “Thou art prettily unconcerned about these things, but if I met an enemy to the king I would run him through as soon as look at him!” “Would you, sir?” says I. “Aye, would I!” says he. “Were he my brother, aye, or father, I would, Master Dick.”