ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 131 



thine amble gentle and measured, as thou wert a 

 lady's palfrey and no war-horse. Methought I saw 

 a light and there again ! 



Swivel. Some marsh-lanthorn or Will o* Wisp. 



May. Nay, Doctor, nay ; lift thy head and opine 

 on't. Is't this King's-house, think you ? 



Swivel. A haunted cairn, Bill, and a witch at her 

 cantrips- 



May. 'Tis the inn, Doctor, I wager a round sum. 

 Halt, and let me dismount ere I am jostled to death. 



Swivel. Thou art a poor equestrian, Bill but 

 look ! there be two figures approaching us from the 

 stream side. 



May. Heaven defend us ! move quicker. 



Swivel. O thou craven ! where are thy ails and 

 heart-burns ? How gottest thou wings in such a 

 hurry ? Speed, speed, speed ! the Celts are after 

 thee, Bill ! (May-fly exit.) What hath seized the 

 fool, and who are here to harm him ? Do none walk 

 i'th' night save cut-throats? O white-liver! what 

 cost is't to resemble a man, and by an assumption 

 of courage hold his attitude, albeit having no more 

 o* the true virtue in thee than a mouse's hide. 

 Were there not twain of us besides, should they 

 prove dishonest ? An air of common resolution 

 would have scared them. But these are no night 

 marauders. Ha! ha! ha! Otter and Jack Leister. 



Enter OTTER and LEISTER. 

 Leister. Even so, Doctor. What dost thou here ? 



