What, man, ne'er lack a draught, when the full can

Stands at thine elbow, and craves emptying!--

Nay, fear not me, for I have no delight

To watch men's vices, since I have myself

Of virtue nought to boast of--I'm a striker,

Would have the world strike with me, pell-mell, all.

--PANDEMONIUM.

Tressilian, in strange agitation of mind, had hardly stepped down the

first two or three steps of the winding staircase, when, greatly to his

surprise and displeasure, he met Michael Lambourne, wearing an impudent

familiarity of visage, for which Tressilian felt much disposed to throw

him down-stairs; until he remembered the prejudice which Amy, the only

object of his solicitude, was likely to receive from his engaging in any

act of violence at that time and in that place.

He therefore contented himself with looking sternly upon Lambourne, as

upon one whom he deemed unworthy of notice, and attempted to pass him in

his way downstairs, without any symptom of recognition. But Lambourne,

who, amidst the profusion of that day's hospitality, had not failed

to take a deep though not an overpowering cup of sack, was not in the

humour of humbling himself before any man's looks. He stopped Tressilian

upon the staircase without the least bashfulness or embarrassment, and

addressed him as if he had been on kind and intimate terms:--"What, no

grudge between us, I hope, upon old scores, Master Tressilian?--nay,

I am one who remembers former kindness rather than latter feud. I'll

convince you that I meant honestly and kindly, ay, and comfortably by

you."

"I desire none of your intimacy," said Tressilian--"keep company with

your mates."

"Now, see how hasty he is!" said Lambourne; "and how these gentles, that

are made questionless out of the porcelain clay of the earth, look down

upon poor Michael Lambourne! You would take Master Tressilian now for

the most maid-like, modest, simpering squire of dames that ever made

love when candles were long i' the stuff--snuff; call you it? Why, you

would play the saint on us, Master Tressilian, and forget that even now

thou hast a commodity in thy very bedchamber, to the shame of my lord's

castle, ha! ha! ha! Have I touched you, Master Tressilian?"

"I know not what you mean," said Tressilian, inferring, however, too

surely, that this licentious ruffian must have been sensible of Amy's

presence in his apartment; "'i but if," he continued, "thou art varlet of

the chambers, and lackest a fee, there is one to leave mine unmolested."




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