"
SIR SILAS.
"I hate disputations. Saint Paul warns us against them. If one
wants to be thirsty, the tail of a stockfish is as good for it as
the head of a logician.
"The doctor there, at Oxford, is in flesh and mettle; but let him be
sleek and gingered as he may, clap me in St. Mary's pulpit, cassock
me, lamb-skin me, give me pink for my colours, glove me to the
elbow, heel-piece me half an ell high, cushion me before and behind,
bring me a mug of mild ale and a rasher of bacon, only just to con
over the text withal; then allow me fair play, and as much of my own
way as he had, and the devil take the hindermost. I am his man at
any time."
SIR THOMAS.
"I am fain to believe it. Verily, I do think, Silas, thou hast as
much stuff in thee as most men. Our beef and mutton at Charlecote
rear other than babes and sucklings.
"I like words taken, like thine, from black-letter books. They look
stiff and sterling, and as though a man might dig about 'em for a
week, and never loosen the lightest.
"Thou hast alway at hand either saint or devil, as occasion needeth,
according to the quality of the sinner, and they never come uncalled
for. Moreover, Master Silas, I have observed that thy hell-fire is
generally lighted up in the pulpit about the dog-days.
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