So you see it was but a slight escape of youth." "And he came here," said Simon, bitterly, "beseeching for admittance to my daughter, while he had his harlot awaiting him at home! I had rather he had slain a score of men! It skills not talking, least of all to thee, Oliver Proudfute, who, if thou art not such a one as himself, would fain be thought so.

But--" "Nay, think not of it so seriously," said Oliver, who began to reflect on the mischief his tattling was likely to occasion to his friend, and on the consequences of Henry Gow's displeasure, when he should learn the disclosure which he had made rather in vanity of heart than in evil intention.
"Consider," he continued, "that there are follies belonging to youth.
Occasion provokes men to such frolics, and confession wipes them off.

I care not if I tell thee that, though my wife be as goodly a woman as the city has, yet I myself--" "Peace, silly braggart," said the glover in high wrath; "thy loves and thy battles are alike apocryphal.

If thou must needs lie, which I think is thy nature, canst thou invent no falsehood that may at least do thee some credit?
Do I not see through thee, as I could see the light through the horn of a base lantern?
Do I not know, thou filthy weaver of rotten worsted, that thou durst no more cross the threshold of thy own door, if thy wife heard of thy making such a boast, than thou darest cross naked weapons with a boy of twelve years old, who has drawn a sword for the first time of his life?
By St.John, it were paying you for your tale bearing trouble to send thy Maudie word of thy gay brags." The bonnet maker, at this threat, started as if a crossbow bolt had whizzed past his head when least expected.

And it was with a trembling voice that he replied: "Nay, good father Glover, thou takest too much credit for thy grey hairs.