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I never had one, replied the stranger, looking back to the centinel, and putting his hand up to his cap as he spoke I carry it, continued he, thus holding up his naked scymetar, his mule moving on slowly all the time on purpose to defend my nose. It is well worth it, gentle stranger, replied the centinel. 'Tis not worth a single stiver, said the bandy-legg'd drummer 'tis a nose of parchment.
As I am a true catholic except that it is six times as big 'tis a nose, said the centinel, like my own. I heard it crackle, said the drummer. By dunder, said the centinel, I saw it bleed. What a pity, cried the bandy-legg'd drummer, we did not both touch it!
It grieves, me, said the centinel, speaking to a little dwarfish bandy-legg'd drummer, that so courteous a soul should have lost his scabbard he cannot travel without one to his scymetar, and will not be able to get a scabbard to fit it in all Strasburg.
The centinel and bandy-legg'd drummer! nothing on this side of old Athens could equal them! they read their lectures under the city-gates to comers and goers, with all the pomp of a Chrysippus and a Crantor in their porticos.
I was washing, I was starching, I was scouring, I was quilting God help me! I never saw it I never touch'd it! would I had been a centinel, a bandy-legg'd drummer, a trumpeter, a trumpeter's wife, was the general cry and lamentation in every street and corner of Strasburg.
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