"
On they went with tipsy mirth and jollity, the numerous torches
flashing their red light against the small windows of the narrow
streets, from whence nightcapped householders, and sometimes their
wives to boot, peeped out by stealth to see what wild wassail
disturbed the peaceful streets at that unwonted hour. At length
the jolly train halted before the door of Sir John Ramorny's house,
which a small court divided from the street.
Here they knocked, thundered, and halloo'd, with many denunciations
of vengeance against the recusants who refused to open the gates.
The least punishment threatened was imprisonment in an empty
hogshead, within the massamore [principal dungeon] of the Prince
of Pastimes' feudal palace, videlicet, the ale cellar. But Eviot,
Ramorny's page, heard and knew well the character of the intruders
who knocked so boldly, and thought it better, considering his
master's condition, to make no answer at all, in hopes that the
revel would pass on, than to attempt to deprecate their proceedings,
which he knew would be to no purpose. His master's bedroom looking
into a little garden, his page hoped he might not be disturbed
by the noise; and he was confident in the strength of the outward
gate, upon which he resolved they should beat till they tired
themselves, or till the tone of their drunken humour should change.
The revellers accordingly seemed likely to exhaust themselves in
the noise they made by shouting and beating the door, when their
mock prince (alas! too really such) upbraided them as lazy and dull
followers of the god of wine and of mirth.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333