It served him right, and the Jest is worth preserving, because 'twas not premeditate, as my Lord's very likely was, but retorted at once and in Self-defence. I don't believe Honours _have_ changed the _Mores_. As _Father_ told _Mother_, there's the same Face under the Hood. 'Tis comique, too, the Fulfilment of _Erasmus_ his Prophecy. _Plato's_ Year has not come rounde, but they have got _Father_ to Court, and the King seems minded never to let him goe. For us, we have the same untamed Spiritts and unconstrayned Course of Life as ever, neither lett nor hindered in our daylie Studdies, though we dress somewhat braver, and see more Companie. _Mother's_ Head was a little turned, at first, by the Change and Enlargement of the Householde ... the Acquisition of Clerk of the Kitchen, Surveyor of the Dresser, Yeoman of the Pastrie, etc., but, as _Father_ laughinglie tolde her, the Increase of her Cares soon steddied her Witts, for she found she had twenty Unthrifts to look after insteade of half-a-dozen. And the same with himself. His Responsibilities are soe increast, that he grutches at everie Hour the Court steals from his Family, and vows, now and then, he will leave off joking, that the King may the sooner wearie of him. But this is onlie in Jest, for he feels it is a _Power_ given him over lighter Minds, which he may exert to usefull and high Purpose. Onlie it keepeth him from needing _Damocles_ his Sword; he trusts not in the Favour of Princes nor in the Voyce of the People, and keeps his Soul as a weaned Child. 'Tis much for us now to get an Hour's Leisure with him, and makes us feel what our olde Privilleges were when we knew 'em not. Still, I'm pleased without being over elated, at his having risen to his proper Level. The _King_ tooke us by Surprise this Morning: _Mother_ had scarce time to slip on her Scarlett Gown and Coif, ere he was in the House. His Grace was mighty pleasant to all, and, at going, saluted all round, which _Bessy_ took humourously, _Daisy_ immoveablie, _Mercy_ humblie, I distastefullie, and _Mother_ delightedlie. She calls him a fine Man; he is indeede big enough, and like to become too big; with long slits of Eyes that gaze freelie on all, as who shoulde say, "Who dare let or hinder us?" His Brow betokens Sense and Franknesse, his Eyebrows are supercilious, and his Cheeks puffy. A rolling, straddling Gait, and abrupt Speech. T'other Evening, as _Father_ and I were, unwontedly, strolling together down the Lane, there accosts us a shabby poor Fellow, with something unsettled in his Eye.... "Master, Sir Knight, and may it please your Judgeship, my name is _Patteson_." "Very likely," says Father, "and my Name is _More_, but what is that to the Purpose?" "And that is _more_ to the Purpose, you mighte have said," returned the other. "Why, soe I mighte," says _Father_, "but how shoulde I have proved it?" "You who are a Lawyer shoulde know best about that," rejoyned the poor Knave; "'tis too hard for poor _Patteson_."