The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

WOODSTOCK. 231
So saying, he threw the cloak from him, and appeared in cuerpo, in a -most
cavalier-like doublet, of greasy crimson satin, pinked and slashed with what
had been once white tiffany; breeches of the same; and nether-stocks, or, as
we now call them, stockings, darned in many places, and which, like those
of Poins, had been once peach-coloured. A pair of pumps, ill calculated for
a walk through the dew, and a broad shoulderbelt of tarnished embroidery,
completed his equipment.
" Come, sir!" he exclaimed; "make haste, off with your slough-Here I
stand tight and true - as loyal a lad as ever stuck rapier through a roundhead.-Come, sir, to your tools!" he continued; " we may have half-a-dozen
thrusts before they come yet, and shame them for their tardiness.-Pshaw!"
he exclaimed, in a most disappointed tone, when the Doctor, unfolding- his
cloak, showed his clerical dress; " Tush! it's but the parson after all!"
Wildrake's respect for the Church, however, and his desire to remove one
who might possibly interrupt a scene to which he looked forward with peculiar satisfaction, induced him presently to assume another tone.
"I beg pardon," he said, "my dear Doctor-I kiss the hem of your cassock-I do, by the thundering Jove-I beg your pardon again.-But I am
happy I have met with you-They are raving for your presence at the
Lodge-to marry, or christen, or bury, or confess, or something very
urgent.-For Heaven's sake, make haste!"
"At the Lodge?" said the Doctor; "why, I left the Lodge this instantI was there later, I' am sure, than you could be, who came the Woodstock
road."
" Well," replied Wildrake, " it is at Woodstock they want you. - Rat it,
did I say the Lodge?-No, no-Woodstock-Mine host cannot be hangedhis daughter married-his bastard christened, or his wife buried-without
the assistance of a real clergyman-Your Holdenoughs won't do for them.
-He's a true man mine host; so, as you value your function, make haste."
" You will pardon me, Master Wildrake," said the Doctor-" I wait for
Master Louis Kerneguy."
"The devil you do!" exclaimed Wildrake. " Why, I always knew the
Scots could do nothing without their minister; but d-n it, I never thought
they put them to this use neither. But I have known jolly customers in
orders, who understood how to handle the sword as well as their prayer-book.
You know the purpose of our meeting, Doctor. Do you come only as a
ghostly comforter-or as a surgeon, perhaps-or do you ever take bilboa in
hand?-Sa-sa!"
Here he made a fencing demonstration with his sheathed rapier.
" I have done so, sir, on necessary occasion," said Dr. Rochecliffe.
"Good sir, let this stand for a necessary one," said Wildrake. "You
know my devotion for the Church. If a divine of your skill would do me
the honour to exchange but three passes with me, I should think myself
happy for ever."
"Sir," said Rochecliffe, smiling, "were there no other objection to what
you propose, I have not the means-I have no weapon."
"What? you want the de quoi? that is unlucky indeed. But you have a
stout cane in your hand-what hinders our trying a pass (my rapier being
sheathed of course) until our principals come up? My pumps are full of
this frost-dew; and I shall be a toe or two out of pocket, if I am to stand
still all the time they are stretching themselves; for, I fancy, Doctor, you
are of my opinion, that the matter will not be a fight of cock-sparrows."
"My business here is to make it, if possible, be no fight at all," said the
divine.
"Now, rat me, Doctor, but that is too spiteful," said Wildrake; "and
were it not for my respect for the Church, I could turn Presbyterian, to be
revenged."
" Stand back a little, if you please, sir," said the Doctor; " do not press