Amid the vagaries of his performance he flew here and there, from one spot to another, still approaching, however, though almost imperceptibly, to the entrance of the royal tent; so that, when at length he sunk exhausted on the earth, after two or three bounds still higher than those which he had yet executed, he was not above thirty yards from the King's person.
"Give him water," said one yeoman; "they always crave a drink after their merry-go-round." "Aha, water, sayest thou, Long Allen ?" exclaimed another archer, with a most scornful emphasis on the despised element; "how wouldst like such beverage thyself, after such a morrice dancing ?" "The devil a water-drop he gets here," said a third.

"We will teach the light-footed old infidel to be a good Christian, and drink wine of Cyprus." "Ay, ay," said a fourth; "and in case he be restive, fetch thou Dick Hunter's horn, that he drenches his mare withal." A circle was instantly formed around the prostrate and exhausted dervise, and while one tall yeoman raised his feeble form from the ground, another presented to him a huge flagon of wine.

Incapable of speech, the old man shook his head, and waved away from him with his hand the liquor forbidden by the Prophet.

But his tormentors were not thus to be appeased.
"The horn, the horn!" exclaimed one.

"Little difference between a Turk and a Turkish horse, and we will use him conforming." "By Saint George, you will choke him!" said Long Allen; "and besides, it is a sin to throw away upon a heathen dog as much wine as would serve a good Christian for a treble night-cap." "Thou knowest not the nature of these Turks and pagans, Long Allen," replied Henry Woodstall.