Lempriere was good-humoured again. He fumbled in his purse and brought forth a gold-piece. "Fool, thou hast spoken like a man born sensible and infinite. I understand thee like a book. Thou hast not folly and thou shalt not be answered as if thou wast a fool. But in terms of gold shalt thou have reply." He put the gold-piece in the fool's hand and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Why now, Nuncio," answered the other, "it is clear that there is a fool at Court, for is it not written that a fool and his money are soon parted? And this gold-piece is still hot with running 'tween thee and me."
Lempriere roared. "Why, then, for thy hit thou shalt have another gold-piece, gossip. But see"--his voice lowered--"know you where is my friend, Buonespoir, the pirate? Know you where he is in durance?"
"As I know marrow in a bone I know where he hides, Nuncio, so come with me," answered the fool.
"If De Carteret had but thy sense, we could live at peace in Jersey," rejoined Lempriere, and strode ponderously after the light-footed fool who capered forth singing: "Come hither, O come hither, There's a bride upon her bed; They have strewn her o'er with roses, There are roses 'neath her head: Life is love and tears and laughter, But the laughter it is dead Sing the way to the Valley, to the Valley! Hey, but the roses they are red!"