These words were followed by the sound of a shuffling footstep; and the speaker turned sharply round by Martin’s side of the cross, to avoid the questions of a burly personage who was advancing to call him to account. The figure of the poor wanderer was sufficiently deplorable; yet it was impossible to look upon it without a smile. He was a very tall and a remarkably spare man, with a long pale face, one side of which was contracted so as to give the appearance of a perpetual winking:--his beard was yellow, and untrimmed. He was habited in a suit of plum-coloured cloth, which had been once of the best quality, but was now faded and threadbare:--his shoes were worn out, and he limped, leaning on a stout cane. At one glance Martin saw that he was one of those forlorn strolling players whose services during these times of trouble were no longer needed, and whose age and infirmity forbade him the privilege of following many of his calling to the camp. He was a cast off minister of pleasure, and, like a cracked viol or an empty flagon, thrown aside as useless. “Whither away so fast, sirrah?” said the beadle, stepping after him; “what dost thou here alone in the street at this hour?” “Marry I am not alone, but in company that I would be happy to be well rid of.” “Why, thou knave, did I not see thee rub thine eyes, and shake thyself, and not a soul near thee?” “Nay, but I tell thee we were three:--first, there was myself; next, there was poverty, a fast traveller, that is even now pinching me, and, thirdly, there was an armed man called want, who belabours me without mercy.” “None of thy foolery, rogue, or I’ll clap thy claw-foot in the stocks:--thou wilt come to the gallows tree at last;--a sluggard all thy life long, I’ll warrant me.” “Look you, master, a slug is a fat thing, and a slow, that feeds without working. Now, you see, I am as lean as a scarecrow, and, lame as I am, I will race thee for a breakfast.” “Out, thou yellow-faced varlet; out, troop away; take thy gabble to the common, and pick thy breakfast with the geese.” “Have me to thy home, and give me part of thy manchets: it will be all the same, for then I shall breakfast with the gander.” Till this moment, neither of the parties had seen Martin; but no sooner did the aged and wandering son of Thespis espy his countenance and smile than he boldly came back, and accosted him:--“Most gallant Cavalier, for by the very curl of thy light beard I see thou art one, help me in my need. Thou seest that I am pricked with many thorns: help me, I say, and so may God help you, and cover your head in battle.” The beadle turned round with surprise; but before he had time to utter a single word Martin had slipped into the hand of the wanderer a piece of silver; and as, at the very same moment, the door of the Jolly Woodcutter was opened by a stout serving wench, he escaped thanks and questions by entering the house.