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Updated: May 14, 2025
The yeoman shook his head. He knew no such person in the household, and did not think there ever had been such. Sir Thomas Drury was found in the stable court, trying the paces of the horse he intended to use in the approaching joust. "Ha! old Wrymouth," he cried, "welcome at last! I must have my new device damasked on my shield. Come hither, and I'll show it thee."
Then should he have a free gift of my bauble," responded the jester, shaking on high that badge, surmounted with the golden head of an ass, and jingling with bells. "How now, friend Wrymouth? 'Tis long since thou wert here! This house hath well- nigh been forced to its ghostly weapons for lack of thy substantial ones. Where hast thou been?" "At Salisbury, good Merryman."
"No," said Stephen, emphatically. "Your father left you twenty crowns apiece?" "Ay, but John hath all save four of them." "For that there's remedy. What saidst thou of the Cheapside armourer? His fellow, the Wrymouth, seemed to have a care of you. Ye made in to the rescue with poor old Spring."
Was this, which seemed to him truth and deliverance, verily the heresy respecting which rumours had come to horrify the country convents? If he had only heard of it from Tibble Wrymouth, he would have doubted, in spite of its power over him, but he had heard it from a man, wise, good, and high in place, like Dean Colet.
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