"And this same letter, now," Sir Percevall began. "To warn you truly, friend, this matter of monopolies hath something of an ill savor in the public mind. What with sweet wines, salt, hides, vinegar, iron, oil, lead, yarn, glass, and what not in monopoly, men cry out that they are robbed and the Queen's advisers turn pale at the very word." He interrupted himself to give his attention to the wine which had just been placed before him. "To better acquaintance!" he said, and the two drank deep together. Droop smacked his lips critically and turned up his eyes for greater abstraction. The wine was pleasant to the palate, he thought, but--well--it wasn't whiskey. "Of this letter, now," the knight resumed, anxious to discover his own advantage in Droop's plans. "'Twere vain for you, a stranger to the Lord High Treasurer, to accost him with it. A very circumspect and pragmatical old lord, believe me. Not every man hath admittance to him, I promise ye. As for me, why, God 'ild you, man! 'twas but yesterday a fortnight Burleigh slapped me o' the shoulder and said: 'Percevall, ye grow fat, you rogue--on the word of a Cecil!' Oh, trust me, Master Droop; my lord much affects my conversation!" "Is that a fact?" said Droop, admiringly. "It certainly ain't done your conversation any harm to be affected that way." "Oh, then, an you jest, Master----" "Not a mite!" exclaimed Copernicus, anxiously. "Verily, nay, friend. Trust me--never!" "Or never trust thee!" quoth the knight, with a twinkle in his eye. Droop took refuge in his wine, and Sir Percevall imitating him, the two emptied their cups together and sighed with a simultaneous content. "That's not bad swizzle," said Droop, patronizingly. "But, as fer me, give me whiskey every time!" "Whiskey!" said the knight with interest. "Nay, methought I knew every vintage and brew, each label and brand from Rhine to the Canaries. But this name, Master Droop, I own I never heard. Whiskey, say you?" "Well, now, do tell!" said Droop, drawing forth his flask of nineteenth-century rye, "never heerd o' whiskey, eh? Never tasted it, either, I s'pose?" "How should I taste it, man, not knowing its very name?" "Verily, thou sayest sooth!" said Droop. Then, glancing all about him: "Ain't there any smaller glasses 'round here?" "Drawer--ho, drawer, I say!" roared the knight. "Here, sir--here! What is your pleasure?" "The pleasure is to come, rogue! Fetch hither two of yon scurvy glass thimbles you wot of. Hostess calls them cordial glasses. Haste now! Scramble, varlet!" When the two small glasses were brought, Droop uncorked his flask and poured each full to the brim. "Th' ain't any seltzer in this one-hoss town," he said, "so I can't make ye a high-ball. We'll jest hev to drink it straight, Sir Knight. Here's luck! Drink hearty!" and with a jerk of hand and head he tossed the spirits down his throat at a gulp and smacked his lips as he set down his glass.