"And Sir Edmondbury Godfrey--weren't he cruelly and bloodily murdered by 'em?" asked the second. "Ay! and whose doing is it that that worthy gentleman, my Lord Russell, has been done to death? That every one knows. 'Tis said the Earl of Bedford offered a hundred thousand pounds to save his life; but the Catholic Duke would not hear of his being spared. And the Duke of York will be King after his present Gracious Majesty. By heavens! I would draw sword for the Protestant Duke and swear to his legitimacy." "I'll tell you what it is," said Fox Crymes, "if this sort of talk is going on here, I'm off and away. If you are not speaking treason, you go pretty nigh to it, too nigh it for safety, and I'll be off." "There are no informers and spies here," said the yeoman. "I reckon us be all true Protestants and loyal to the Crown and Constitution. The Constitution! God bless it!" "You can't go, Fox," said Anthony, "for here comes the storm we have been expecting." He spoke as a flash illuminated the room, and was followed by a boom of near thunder, then down came the rain like the fall of a water-spout on the roof. Our brothers lie drowned in the depths of the sea, Cold stones for their pillows, what matters to me? Mr. Solomon Gibbs was erect, supporting himself on the table by his left hand, whilst he mixed the bowl of punch and stirred it, and sang in snatches: We'll drink to their healths and repose to each soul, Give me the punch ladle--I'll fathom the bowl. "Now, then, landlord! Where's the lemons? Bless my soul, you're not going to make us drink unlemoned punch? As well give us a King without a Crown, or a parson without a gown." Your wives they may fluster as much as they please-- Haven't got one, I'm thankful--a sister don't count-- Let 'em scold, let 'em grumble, we'll sit at our ease. In the ends of our pipes we'll apply a hot coal. Give me the punch ladle--I'll fathom the bowl. "--So! the lemons at last? Where's a silver knife to cut them with? Bless my soul! How it rains! I thank Providence the water is without, and the spirit is within." "This rain will dowse the fires on the moor," said the yeoman. "And would have washed your Tory zeal out of you," laughed Anthony, "had you gone out in it just now, shocked at our Whiggery." "Oh! you," sneered Fox, "you took good care to say nothing. You were wise not to come within seeing distance with a pair of perspective glasses of Tyburn gallows, where men have been hung, disembowelled, and drawn for less offence than some of the words let drop to-night." "Now--no more of this," shouted Mr. Solomon Gibbs, "I am president here. Where the punch-bowl is, there is a president, and I waive my sceptre, this ladle, and enforce abstention from politics, and all such scurvy subjects. You began it, Taverner, with your damnable ballad of the Catholic cause, and you shall be served last. Comrades! 'To the King, God bless him!'"