himself, "Those very virtues will be my best dupes; they cannot resist
the temptations I shall offer; but they can resist any offer to betray
me afterwards; for no man can resist hunger: but your fine feelings,
your nice honour, your precise religion,--he! he! he!--these can teach
a man very well to resist a common inducement; they cannot make him
submit to be his own executioner; but they can prevent his turning
king's evidence and being executioner to another. No, no: it is not
to your common rogues that I may dare trust my secret,--my secret,
which is my life! It is precisely of such a fine, Athenian, moral
rogue as I shall make my proud friend that I am in want. But he has
some silly scruples; we must beat them away: we must not be too rash;
and above all, we must leave the best argument to poverty. Want is
your finest orator; a starving wife, a famished brat,--he! he!--these
are your true tempters,--your true fathers of crime, and fillers of
jails and gibbets. Let me see: he has no money, I know, but what he
gets from that bookseller. What bookseller, by the by? Ah, rare
thought! I'll find out, and cut off that supply. My lady wife's
cheek will look somewhat thinner next month, I fancy--he! he! But 't
is a pity, for she is a glorious creature! Who knows but I may serve
two purposes? However, one at present! business first, and pleasure
afterwards; and, faith, the business is damnably like that of life and
death."

Muttering such thoughts as these, Crauford took his way one evening to
Glendower's house.




CHAPTER XLII.