No More Learning

_Gab. _ It matters little.

_Iden. _ (_aside_). I think that all the world are grown anonymous,
Since no one cares to tell me what he's called!
Pray, has his Excellency a large suite?

_Gab. _ Sufficient.

_Iden. _ How many?

_Gab. _ I did not count them.
We came up by mere accident, and just
In time to drag him through his carriage window.

_Iden. _ Well, what would I give to save a great man!
290
No doubt you'll have a swingeing sum as recompense.

_Gab. _ Perhaps.

_Iden. _ Now, how much do you reckon on?

_Gab. _ I have not yet put up myself to sale:
In the mean time, my best reward would be
A glass of your[166] Hockcheimer--a _green_ glass,
Wreathed with rich grapes and Bacchanal devices,
O'erflowing with the oldest of your vintage:
For which I promise you, in case you e'er
Run hazard of being drowned, (although I own
It seems, of all deaths, the least likely for you,) 300
I'll pull you out for nothing. Quick, my friend,
And think, for every bumper I shall quaff,
A wave the less may roll above your head.

_Iden. _ (_aside_). I don't much like this fellow--close and dry
He seems,--two things which suit me not; however,
Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him not,
I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity. [_Exit_ IDENSTEIN.

_Gab. _ (_to_ WERNER). This master of the ceremonies is
The intendant of the palace, I presume:
'Tis a fine building, but decayed.

_Wer.