⸺Pugh!—’tis nothing but a thistle—never mind it⸺thou shalt have a better supper at night.
⸺Banish’d from my country⸺my friends⸺from thee.⸺
Poor devil, thou’rt sadly tired with thy journey!⸺come—get on a little faster—there’s nothing in my cloak-bag but two shirts⸺a crimson-sattin pair of breeches, and a fringed⸺Dear Julia.
⸺But why to Frankfort —is it that there is a hand unfelt, which secretly is conducting me through these meanders and unsuspected tracts?
⸺Stumbling! by saint Nicolas! every step—why, at this rate we shall be all night in getting in⸻
⸺To happiness⸺or am I to be the sport of fortune and slander—destined to be driven forth unconvicted⸺unheard⸺untouch’d⸺if so, why did I not stay at Strasburg , where justice—but I had sworn! Come, thou shalt drink—to St. Nicolas —O Julia!⸻What dost thou prick up thy ears at?⸺’tis nothing but a man, etc.
The stranger rode on communing in this manner with his mule and Julia—till he arrived at his inn, where, as soon as he arrived, he alighted⸻saw his mule, as he had promised it, taken good care of⸺took off his cloak-bag, with his crimson-sattin breeches, etc. , in it—called for an omelet to his supper, went to his bed about twelve o’clock, and in five minutes fell fast asleep.
It was about the same hour when the tumult in Strasburg being abated for that night,—the Strasburgers had all got quietly into their beds—but not like the stranger, for the rest either of their minds or bodies; queen Mab , like an elf as she was, had taken the stranger’s nose,