lewd rascals about the French ambassador, who have been bred (God help
them) among the filthy vices of that Medicean Court in which the Queen
of Scots had her schooling; and can only perceive in a virtuous freedom
a cloak for licentiousness like their own. Let the curs bark; Honi soit
qui mal y pense is our motto, and shall be forever."

"But I didn't let the cur bark; for I took him by the ears, to show him
out into the street. Whereon he got to his sword, and I to mine; and a
very near chance I had of never bathing on the pebble ridge more; for
the fellow did not fight with edge and buckler, like a Christian, but
had some newfangled French devil's device of scryming and foining with
his point, ha'ing and stamping, and tracing at me, that I expected to be
full of eyelet holes ere I could close with him."

"Thank God that you are safe, then!" said Frank. "I know that play well
enough, and dangerous enough it is."

"Of course you know it; but I didn't, more's the pity."

"Well, I'll teach it thee, lad, as well as Rowland Yorke himself,

'Thy fincture, carricade, and sly passata,
Thy stramazon, and resolute stoccata,
Wiping maudritta, closing embrocata,
And all the cant of the honorable fencing mystery.'"

"Rowland Yorke? Who's he, then?"

"A very roystering rascal, who is making good profit in London just now
by teaching this very art of fence; and is as likely to have his mortal