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Updated: May 23, 2025
And one of his retainers led up a poor, cringing old man, as pale as a candle, and all shaking with the fen fever. "Sirrah," said Sir Daniel, "your name?" "An't please your worship," replied the man, "my name is Condall Condall of Shoreby, at your good worship's pleasure." "I have heard you ill reported on," returned the knight.
"'Seize me, saith he, 'that Tyndal of Shoreby." "Condall, my good lord; Condall is my poor name," said the unfortunate. "Condall or Tyndal, it is all one," replied Sir Daniel, coolly. "For, by my sooth, y' are here and I do mightily suspect your honesty. If ye would save your neck, write me swiftly an obligation for twenty pound." "For twenty pound, my good lord!" cried Condall.
"Here is midsummer madness! My whole estate amounteth not to seventy shillings." "Condall or Tyndal," returned Sir Daniel, grinning, "I will run my peril of that loss. Write me down twenty, and when I have recovered all I may, I will be good lord to you, and pardon you the rest." "Alas! my good lord, it may not be; I have no skill to write," said Condall. "Well-a-day!" returned the knight.
"Here, then, is no remedy. Yet I would fain have spared you, Tyndal, had my conscience suffered. Selden, take me this old shrew softly to the nearest elm, and hang me him tenderly by the neck, where I may see him at my riding. Fare ye well, good Master Condall, dear Master Tyndal; y' are post-haste for Paradise; fare ye then well!"
"Nay, my right pleasant lord," replied Condall, forcing an obsequious smile, "an ye be so masterful, as doth right well become you, I will even, with all my poor skill, do your good bidding." "Friend," quoth Sir Daniel, "ye will now write two score. Go to! y' are too cunning for a livelihood of seventy shillings. Selden, see him write me this in good form, and have it duly witnessed."
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