THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
often makes them laugh very heartily to themselves, whenas they think how ignorant and silly others are. And, from seeing in that admirable fountain and abysmal well how this earthly sphere does certainly whirl around the sun in an everlasting gyre (indeed Pythagoras taught as much, but nobody would listen to him), Silurians are obnoxious to a circularity of motion after these meditations, the which the old hieroglyphical writers symbolise by the likeness of a man driving turkeys along a road.
Praised be the home of the Greyhound in Abergavenny, and the habitations of the Salmons in Uske; thither we all hasten after we have crossed the bridge, for we see the shield from afar, azure, three salmons nayant in pale argent; 'tis a very goodly coat. But all the company within must be blazoned hauriant and not naiant, for they sit drinking and drinking evermore, forgetful that the Portreeve passeth along the road, they hear not the noise of his trumpets nor the beating of his drums. No thought give they to the high service in St. Mary's quire, nor to dalliance with fair ladies in the castle that overlooks the town; but the tankards, and cans, and cups foam up, and foam again, and in the Salmons they sit still drinking, and drinking evermore. And thou, most swift Greyhound, that swingest in the city dreaming below great hills, where the Gavenny and the Uske do meet interflow, for thee, I say, they have set up a rare kennel, a kennel with a courtyard and low passages, where is stored baronial ale, ale such as was pleasant to De Broase what time he had
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