"By 'ur Lady, a fine beast," said the host. "Why, Will Shakespeare, this is even a better night's work than when you shot that beast in Fulbrook."

"A stag of ten, my masters all," said Froth. "'Fore gad, I am well nigh exhausted with long fasting and sharp watching. A cup of wine, mine host, a cup of wine to Sir Thomas Lucy's health."

Whilst the host produced his wine, and Froth and Careless seated themselves on the settle beneath the chimney, Snare and Shakespeare were busily engaged in skinning the stag, which having quickly accomplished, they as speedily cut it up, and disposed of the several portions in such places of security and concealment us the host pointed out. After which, the skin and the antlered head were thrust into the meal-bag, and carried into the orchard, where Shakespeare dug a hole and buried it.

That done they returned to the kitchen, and mine host having spread a table and furnished it with liquors, some rashers were cut from the carcase of the door, and fried, and eaten with a relish only known to men who had spent a night in the forest glades watching and killing the stag from which they were taken.

"By 'ur Lady, my lads," said Froth, as he washed down these delicious morsels, hot from the fire, with large draughts of mine host's best ale, "this is the best part of the night's work. I like not that lonely watching beneath the moon's rays. Give me the tankard and a savoury collop after the deed is done, and spare me the toil of the action. And yet, lads, an I had met yonder caitiff-keepers, I should have found them in work, I promise ye."

"No doubt," said Caliver; "it would have taken them all four to have carried thy fat paunch to the cage."

"I taken to the cage!" said Froth, "I would have cudgelled them to mummy."

"Ha, Cavaliere," said the host, "thou would'st have smote, thou would'st have feined, thou would'st have traversed, eh, ere limbo should have held thy portly body? And that reminds me, Lawyer Grasp, with two imps of the evil one, was here to-night inquiring for thee."

"Ah!" said Froth, turning rather blank, and setting down the tankard.

"The peaking knave, then, hath entered the action against me for Master Doubletongue's debt. Would I had been at home, my lads, we would have tossed the caitiff in a blanket."

"Nay, Host," said Pierce Caliver, "I had rather myself not come in contact with that Grasp; by the same token, I owe moneys too. Therefore keep fast your doors while I am within them."

"My hand upon it," said the host; "I will keep all fast till noon; and none shall have egress or regress. Said I well, lads, eh?"

"You did, Host," said Careless, "for I, too, would as lief walk with the receipt of fernseed by daylight."

"And now, my lads all," said Snare, "let us have one song, and then a nap; after that to seek our several destinations. I am for Warwick when day breaks."

"And I for Monkspath," said Careless.

"And I for Stoneleigh," said Caliver.

"And I for home," said Shakespeare, with a look of mock solemnity, "where----"

"Where thou wilt be finely clapper-clawed for being out all night," said the host. "Such it is to be a married man--ha! ha! A young man married is a man that's marred. But truly, Will, thou art not yet married; thou canst hit a buck by moonlight with the best of us; so, I pry'thee, give us that song of thine about the horns, and we'll all join in chorus."

Shakespeare accordingly commenced the following glee. Snare and the others taking part, and joining chorus:--

_Shak._ What shall he have that killed the deer?[15]

_Snare._ His leather skin and horns to wear.

_Shak._ Then sing him home.

_Chorus._ Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn, It was a crest ere thou wast born, _Shak._ Thy father's father wore it.

_Snare._ And thy own father bore it.

_Chorus._ The horn, the horn, the l.u.s.ty horn, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

[Footnote 15: "As you like it."]

The first faint light of the breaking dawn, as it gradually appeared through the diamond-paned window, found the entire party wrapped in slumber.

The fat and jovial Froth, with his huge legs stretched out before him, his portly body thrown back, and the tankard fast-clutched in his hand, showed by his apoplectic breathing, the heaviness of his slumbers.

Shakespeare, somewhat fatigued by the night's exertions, sat opposite, with his head on his folded arms.

Snare was down full length before the expired fire upon the hearth; and the others were disposed on either side.

Not a sound was heard, except the prolonged chorus of the sleepers, and the chirping of the cricket; when from beneath a large table at the farther end of the kitchen, and where he had lain concealed, the head of Pouncet Grasp was protruded. Stealthily, and with the greatest caution, he listened to the heavy breathing of the sleepers. He then as carefully emerged from his hiding-place, and stole on tip-toe towards the party, identifying each individual as he did so, and putting down his name in a small tablet he drew from the breast of his doublet.

"Oh, oh," he whispered to himself, as he closed the tablets, after writing down the name of William Shakespeare; "here is a precious nest of ye."

"Ah! ah!" he continued, as he stepped to the door, and carefully opening it, looked back ere he departed. "Here's a delicious job for a man to stumble upon! A good night's work you have made on't, Master William Shakespeare, have ye? Yes, and a precious piece of work have ye all made on't. A Star-Chamber matter will Sir Thomas make of this, as sure as my name is Grasp." So saying, he quietly opened the back door, and stole out to join the followers whom he had left in the orchard.

"Shall I call the other men, and make the capture, Master Grasp?"

inquired one of his myrmidons in a whisper. "Not to-night, good Giles,"

said the lawyer. "By no means to-night. There is a precious fellowship within there; and they may capture us! Besides, I have found out a plot--a monstrous plot--a d.a.m.nable plot--and yet a lovely plot--a most sweet piece of villany!"

"A monstrous plot!" said the constable; "What is't, another conspiracy to murder the Queen?"

"Worse," said Grasp. "Now, listen and perpend. Thou knowest Sir Thomas Lucy hath of late lost more than one deer?"

"I do," said the constable.

"Well, an he hath lost them, I have found them."

"Where?" eagerly inquired the constable.

"Here, in this veritable inn," said Grasp.

"And when?" inquired the constable.

"Why, now, even now: go to--see what it is to bear a brain."

"Nay, then, Master Grasp," said the constable, "if the case, I also have a discovery to tell of."

"Ah!" said Grasp, "what is it?"

"Whilst we lay perdue in yonder corner of the orchard. But, stay, dost see that tree there with the spade against it?"

"I do," said Grasp, eagerly.

"With that spade, and under the third tree in line therewith, did Will Shakespeare dig a hole this night, and into that hole did Diccon Snare bury a something concealed in a sack."

"Ha! say'st thou; by my faith the skin of the stolen deer," said Grasp, "as I'm a lawyer. Let us mark the tree; and now, my lads, I have ye emmeshed in a lovely web. No noise, ye knaves," he continued to his men, "but get through the hedge and away."

"Ha! ha! Master William Shakespeare," he said, as he followed his two ill-looking myrmidons. "Now, will I to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, knight and magistrate, and then will we let the law loose upon ye."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

THE ADVENTURE.