looking him in the eyes (but softly, so that the lackey might not
hear)----

"So thus you feed your expenses at the dice: and my shilling, no
doubt, is for Luke Settle, as well as the rest."

For the moment, under my look, he went white to the lips; then
clapped his hand to his sword, withdrew it, and answered me, red as
a turkey-cock----

"Shalt be a parson, yet, Master Scholar: but art in a damn'd hurry,
it seems."

Now, I had ever a quick temper, and as he turned on his heel, was
like to have replied and raised a brawl. My own meddling tongue had
brought the rebuff upon me: but yet my heart was hot as he walked
away.

I was standing there and looking after him, turning over in my hand
the "Life of Saint George," when my fingers were aware of a slip of
paper between the pages. Pulling it out, I saw 'twas scribbled over
with writing and figures, as follows:--

"Mr. Anthony Killigrew, his acct for Oct. 25th, MDCXLII.--_For
herrings_, 2d.; _for coffie_, 4d.; _for scowring my coat_, 6d.; _at
bowls_, 5s. 10d.; _for bleading me_, 1s. 0d.; _for ye King's speech_,
3d.; _for spic'd wine (with Marjory)_, 2s. 4d.; _for seeing ye
Rhinoceros_, 4d.; _at ye Ranter-go-round_, 6 3/4d.; _for a pair of
silver buttons_, 2s. 6d.; _for apples_, 2 1/2d.; _for ale_, 6d.; _at
ye dice_, L17 5s.; _for spic'd wine (again)_, 4s. 6d."