How I Fell In With One God-Be-Here, A Peddler

Evening was at hand as I reached a little alehouse well away from the road and pleasantly secluded by trees: thither came I, fondling Penfeather's money in my pocket, for I was again mightily sharp set. But all at once I stopped, for, passing the open lattice, I heard loud laughter and a merry voice: "And there, believe me, gossips" (quoth this voice), "as sure as this be beef--aye, and good beef and cooked to a turn, mistress--there's this great, lob-lolly, hectoring Tom Button fast i' the pillory--and by this good ale, a woeful sight, his eyes blacked, his nose a-bleeding, his jerkin torn and a dead cat about his neck, oho--aha! Tom Button--big Tom, fighting Tom so loud o' tongue and ready o' fist--Tom as have cowed so many--there is he fast by the neck and a-groaning, see ye, gossips, loud enough for six, wish I may die else! And the best o' the joke is--the key be gone, as I'm a sinner! So they needs must break the lock to get him out. Big Tom, as have thrashed every man for miles." But here merry voice and laughter ceased and a buxom woman thrust smiling face from the window, and face (like her voice) was kindly when she addressed me: "What would ye, young master?"

"A little food, mistress," says I, touching my weather-worn hat and pulling it lower over my bruised and swollen features.

"Why come in, master, come in--there be none here but my Roger and Godby the peddler, as knoweth everyone."