"The same," Jocelyn answered.
"Thy father was my nearest and dearest friend, young man," Hugh Calveley
said; "and thy father's son shall be welcome to my dwelling. Enter, I
pray of you. Yet pause for a moment. I have a word more to declare to
these people. Ye heed not my words, and make a mock of me," he
continued, addressing the assemblage: "but I will give you a sign that I
have spoken the truth."
"He will bring the devil among us, I trow," cried Dick Taverner.
"'Tis to be hoped he will not split the May-pole with a thunderbolt,"
said the miller.
"Nor spoil our Whitsun-ales," cried old Greenford.
"Nor lame our Hobby-horse," said one of the mummers.
"Nor rob me of my wreath and garlands," said Gillian.
"That he shall not, I promise you, fair May Queen!" Dick Tavernor
rejoined, gallantly.
"I will do none of these things. I would not harm you, even if I had the
power," the Puritan said. "But I will discharge a bolt against the head
of yon idol," he added, pointing towards the flower-crowned summit of
the May-pole; "and if I break its neck and cast it down, ye will own
that a higher hand than mine directs the blow, and that the
superstitious symbol ought not to be left standing."
"As to what we may do, or what we may acknowledge, we will give no
promise, Master Hugh Calveley," rejoined old Greenford. "But e'en let
fly thy bolt, if thou wilt."
Some dissent was offered to this singular proposition, but the majority
of voices overruled it; and withdrawing for a moment, Hugh Calveley
returned with an arbalist, which he proceeded deliberately to arm in
view of the crowd, and then placed a quarrel within it.
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