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Updated: August 8, 2024
A little man, with chin- whiskers like a paintbrush, sat inside, shucking clams by the light of a lantern. We decided not to go in and slit his weazand. Suddenly he looked up, as if he had heard us, and then rising, started for the door. We all darted back hastily, and hid in the shadow of the next building.
The health of Slit-the- Weazand was proposed in a neat speech by Mark-the-Pinker, and responded to by the former gentleman in a manner that drew tears to the eyes of all present. To the broker, in his concealment, this momentary diversion from the real business of the meeting occasioned much anxiety.
The young Poins stretched forth his arm and groaned. 'Part is bruises and part is sickness of the waves, he muttered; 'but if I make not shift to slit his weazand ere nightfall, pox take all my advancement for ever. I will tell my weary tale. Throckmorton paused, held his head down, fingered his beard, and said: 'When left ye him at Greenwich?
Daddles stopped us. "It's the lair of the old fox himself!" "Who?" "None but black-hearted Gregory the Gauger. Him it was or one of his minions that killed old Diccon, our messmate, but a hundred paces from the cave, last Michaelmas. Shall we go in and slit his weazand?" We crept up to the window and looked in.
"Since chill fear retards thy soul, and thou dreadest to become the avenger of thy sire, thou art utterly degenerate, and thy ways are like a slave's. "It would have needed scant preparation to destroy thee; even as if a man should catch and cut the throat of a kid, or slit the weazand of a soft sheep and butcher it.
'Nick Throckmorton, Poins answered, 'I will slit thy weazand! I am on a greater errand than thine. It was strong in his mind that he was bearing a letter for the King's Highness. The other three laid hands swiftly upon him, and a wet cloak flapped over his head. They had his elbows bound together behind his back before his eyes again had the river and the muddy path to look upon.
'I should have thought that would be a "raison de plus," as the French say. But I wish your long-legged friend would come back, even if he were intent upon slitting my weazand for my attention to the widow. He is not a man to flinch from his liquor, I'll warrant. Curse this Wiltshire dust that clings to my periwig!
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