The old man pulled his nose and glanced down. 'We were all Papists in my day. I have made the pilgrimage to Compostella, for all you mock me now.' He turned his head to see Magister Udal entering the door furtively and with eyes that leered round the room. Both the Badges fell into sudden, and as if guilty, silence. '_Domus parva, quies magna_,' the magister tittered, and swept across the rushes in his furs to rub his hands before the fire. 'When shall I teach your Margot the learned tongues?' 'When the sun sets in the East,' the printer muttered. Udal sent to him over his shoulder, as words of consolation: 'The new Queen is come to Rochester.' The printer heaved an immense sigh: 'God be praised!' Udal snickered, still over his shoulder: 'You see, neither have the men of the Old Faith put venom in her food, nor have the Emperor's galleys taken her between Calais and Sandwich.' 'Yet she comes ten days late.' 'Oh moody and suspicious artificer. _Afflavit deus!_ The wind hath blown dead against Calais shore this ten days.' The old man pulled his long white nose: 'In my day we could pray to St Leonard for a fair wind.' He was too old to care whether the magister reported his words to Thomas Cromwell, the terrible Lord Privy Seal, and too sardonic to keep silence for long about the inferiority of his present day. 'When shall I teach the fair Margot the learned tongue?' Udal asked again. 'When wolves teach conies how to play on pipes,' the master printer snarled from his chest. 'The Lord Privy Seal never stood higher,' Udal said. 'The match with the Cleves Lady hath gained him great honour.' 'God cement it!' the printer said fervently. The old man pulled at his nose and gazed at nothing. 'I am tired with this chatter of the woman from Cleves,' he croaked, like a malevolent raven. 'An Anne she is, and a Lutheran. I mind we had an Anne and a Lutheran for Queen before. She played the whore and lost her head.' 'Where's your niece Margot?' Udal asked the printer. 'You owe me nine crowns,' the old man said. 'I will give your Margot ten crowns' worth of lessons in Latin.' 'Hold and enough,' the printer muttered heavily. 'Tags from Seneca in a wench's mouth are rose garlands on a cow's horns.' 'The best ladies in the land learn of me,' Udal answered. 'Aye, but my niece shall keep her virtue intact.' 'You defame the Lady Mary of England,' Udal snickered. The old man said vigorously, 'God save her highness, and send us her for Queen. Have you begged her to get me redress in the matter of that wall?' 'Why, Providence was kind to her when it sent her me for her master,' Udal said. 'I never had apter pupil saving only one.' 'Shall Thomas Cromwell redress?' the old man asked. 'If good learning can make a good queen, trust me to render her one,' Udal avoided the question. 'But alas! being declared bastard--for very excellent reasons--she may not----'