have King Henry's countenance and favour; and it is easy to see that a
new court will make vast consumption in mercery."

Master Stokton looked puzzled.

"That were a hugeous pity, good Nicholas; and, certes, there is Wat
Smith, in Eastgate, who would cheat that good King Henry, poor man!
which were a shame to the city; but, on the other hand, the Yorkists
mostly pay on the nail (except King Edward, God save him!), and the
Lancastrians are as poor as mice. Moreover, King Henry is a meek man,
and does not avenge; King Edward, a hot and a stern man, and may call
it treason to go with the Red Rose! I wish I knew how to decide! I
have a daughter, an only daughter,--a buxom lass, and well dowered. I
would I had a sharp son-in-law to advise me!"

"Master Stokton, in one word, then, he never goes far wrong who can
run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Good-day to you, I have
business elsewhere."

So saying, Nicholas rather hastily shook off the mercer's quivering
fingers, and hastened out of the hall.

"Verily," murmured the disconsolate Stokton, "run with the hare,
quotha!--that is, go with King Edward; but hunt with the hounds,--that
is, go with King Henry. Odds costards; it's not so easily done by a
plain man not bred in the North. I'd best go--home, and do nothing!"

With that, musing and bewildered, the poor man sneaked out, and was
soon lost amidst the murmuring, gathering, and swaying crowds, many
amongst which were as much perplexed as himself.