‘for a thousand gibbets are not so bad to me as one Doüegnas.’ Now ye see how we are abused,” quoth the gouvernante, “I hope you’ll do us some right, when it lies in your power.” She would have talked me to death, if I had not given her the slip upon the removing of her spectacles; but I could not ’scape so neither, for looking about me for a guide to carry me home again, I was arrested by one of the dead; a good proper fellow, only he had a pair of rams’ horns on his head, and I was about to salute him for Aries in the Zodiac; but when I saw him plant himself, just before me, with his best leg forward, stretching out his arms, clutching his fists, and looking as sour as if he would have eaten me without mustard, “Doubtless,” said I, “the devil is dead and this is he.” “No, no,” cried a bystander, “this is a man:” “Why then,” said I, “he’s drunk, I perceive, and quarrelsome in his ale, for here’s nobody has touched him.” With that, as he was just ready to fall on, I stood to my guard, and we were armed at all points alike, only he had the odds of the headpiece. “Now, sirrah,” says he, “have at ye, slave that you are to make a trade of defaming persons of honour. By the death that commands here, I’ll ha’ my revenge, and turn your skin over your ears.” This insolent language stirred my choler I confess, and so I called to him “Come, come on, sirrah; a little nearer yet, and if ye have a mind to be twice killed, I’ll do your business; who the devil brought this cornuto hither to trouble me?” The word was no sooner out, but we were immediately at it, tooth and nail, and if his horns had not been flatted to his head, I might have had the worst on’t. But the whole ring presently came in to part us, and did me a singular kindness in’t, for my adversary had a fork, and I had none. As they were staving and tailing, “You might have had more manners,” cried one, “than to give such language to your betters, and to call Don Diego Moreno cuckold.” “And is this that Diego Moreno then?” said I. “Rascal that he is to charge me with abusing persons of honour. A scoundrel,” said I, “that ’tis a shame for death to be seen in’s company, and was never fit for anything in his whole life, but to furnish matter for a farce.” “And that’s my grievance, gentlemen,” quoth Don Diego, “for which with your leave he shall give me satisfaction. I do not stand upon the matter of being a cuckold, for there’s many a brave fellow lives in Cuckold’s-Row. But why does he not name others, as well as me? As if the horn grew upon nobody’s head but mine: I’m sure there are others that a thousand times better deserve it. I hope, he cannot say that ever I gored any of my superiors; or that my being cornuted has raised the price of post-horns, lanthorns, or pocket-ink-horns. Are not shoeing-horns and knife-handles as cheap now as ever? Why must I walk the stage then more than my neighbours? Beyond question there never lived a more peaceable wretch