CHANCELLOR: He said calmly, but not without sighing twice or thrice, "Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of life. My father says, too truly, I am not courageous, but the death that leads me to my God shall never terrify me." When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We raised him up: he was dead! PETER: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art, dost thou recite this ill accident to a father--and to one who has not dined? Bring me a glass of brandy. Away and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle with it: and--hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some pickled sturgeon, and some krout and caviar. _II.--Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne_ MONTAIGNE: What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, other than a good heart? You rise early, I see; you must have risen with the sun, to be here at this hour. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in Auvergne. Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them. SCALIGER: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your library; here are your every-day books. MONTAIGNE: Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks. SCALIGER: You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can do with fewer. MONTAIGNE: Why, how many now do you think here may be? SCALIGER: I did not believe at first that there could be above fourscore. MONTAIGNE: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking of peas and beans? SCALIGER: I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many. MONTAIGNE: Ah! to write them is quite another thing. How do you like my wine? If you prefer your own country wine, only say it. I have several bottles in my cellar. I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are particular in these matters? SCALIGER: I know three things--wine, poetry, and the world. MONTAIGNE: You know one too many, then. I hardly know whether I know anything about poetry; for I like Clem Marot better than Ronsard. SCALIGER: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot. His version of the Psalms is lately set to music, and added to the New Testament of Geneva. MONTAIGNE: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a barrel of vinegar, which will never grow the sweeter for it. SCALIGER: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of the New Testament? MONTAIGNE: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and kindly is there. But Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime and vitriol upon it, and whoever but touches the cover dirties his fingers or burns them. SCALIGER: Calvin is a very great man. MONTAIGNE: I do not like your great men who beckon me to them, call me their begotten, their dear child, and their entrails; and, if I happen to say on any occasion, "I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from you," stamp and cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner. SCALIGER: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and reasonable.