IN WHICH THE RAYS OF CHIVALRY¹ SHINE WITH RENOVATED² LUSTRE³. Our hero little dreamed that he had a formidable rival in the person of the knight⁴, who arrived about eleven, at the sign of the St. George, and, by the noise he made, gave intimation of his importance. This was no other than Squire⁵ Sycamore, who, having received advice that Miss Aurelia Darnel had eloped from the place of her retreat, immediately took the field in quest of that lovely fugitive⁶; hoping that, should he have the good fortune to find her in present distress⁷, his good offices would not be rejected. He had followed the chase so close, that, immediately after our adventurer’s departure, he alighted at the inn, from whence Aurelia had been conveyed; and there he learned the particulars which we have related above.
 
Mr. Sycamore had a great deal of the childish romantic in his disposition⁸, and, in the course of his amours, is said to have always taken more pleasure in the pursuit than in the final possession. He had heard of Sir Launcelot’s extravagance, by which he was in some measure infected, and he dropped an insinuation, that he could eclipse his rival, even in his own lunatic sphere. This hint was not lost upon his companion, counsellor, and buffoon⁹, the facetious¹⁰ Davy Dawdle¹¹, who had some humour, and a great deal of mischief¹², in his composition. He looked upon his patron as a fool, and his patron knew him to be both knave¹³ and fool; yet, the two characters suited each other so well, that they could hardly exist asunder¹⁴. Davy was an artful sycophant¹⁵, but he did not flatter in the usual way; on the contrary, he behaved en cavalier, and treated Sycamore, on whose bounty¹⁶ he subsisted¹⁷, with the most sarcastic¹⁸ familiarity. Nevertheless, he seasoned his freedom with certain qualifying ingredients, that subdued¹⁹ the bitterness of it, and was now become so necessary to the squire, that he had no idea of enjoyment²⁰ with which Dawdle was not somehow or other connected.
 
There had been a warm dispute betwixt them about the scheme of contesting the prize with Sir Launcelot in the lists of chivalry. Sycamore had insinuated²¹, that if he had a mind to play the fool, he could wear armour²², wield²³ a lance, and manage a charger, as well as Sir Launcelot Greaves. Dawdle, snatching the hint, “I had, some time ago,” said he, “contrived a scheme for you, which I was afraid you had not address enough to execute. It would be no difficult matter, in imitation of the bachelor, Sampson Carrasco, to go in quest of Greaves, as a knight-errant, defy him as a rival, and establish a compact, by which the vanquished²⁴ should obey the injunctions of the victor.”—“That is my very idea,” cried Sycamore. “—Your idea!” replied the other; “had you ever an idea of your own conception?” Thus the dispute began, and was maintained with great vehemence²⁵, until other arguments failing, the squire offered to lay a wager²⁶ of twenty guineas. To this proposal, Dawdle answered by the interjection pish! which inflamed²⁷ Sycamore to a repetition of the defiance²⁸. “You are in the right,” said Dawdle, “to use such an argument as you know is by me unanswerable. A wager of twenty guineas will at any time overthrow²⁹ and confute all the logic³⁰ of the most able syllogist, who has not got a shilling in his pocket.”
 
Sycamore looked very grave at this declaration, and, after a short pause, said, “I wonder, Dawdle, what you do with all your money?”—“I am surprised you should give yourself that trouble—I never ask what you do with yours.”—“You have no occasion to ask; you know pretty well how it goes.”—“What, do you upbraid³¹ me with your favours?—‘t is mighty³² well, Sycamore.”—“Nay³³, Dawdle, I did not intend to affront³⁴.”—“Z——s! affront! what d’ye mean?” “I’ll assure you, Davy, you don’t know me, if you think I could be so ungenerous as to—a—to——“—“I always thought, whatever faults or foibles you might have, Sycamore, that you was not deficient³⁵ in generosity,—though to be sure it is often very absurdly displayed.”—“Ay, that’s one of my greatest foibles; I can’t refuse even a scoundrel, when I think he is in want.—Here, Dawdle, take that note.” —“Not I, sir,—what d’ye mean?—what right have I to your notes?” —“Nay, but Dawdle,—come.”—“By no means; it looks like the abuse of good-nature;—all the world knows you’re good-natured to a fault.” —“Come, dear Davy, you shall—you must oblige me.”—Thus urged, Dawdle accepted the bank-note with great reluctance³⁶, and restored the idea to the right owner.
 
A suit of armour being brought from the garret or armoury of his ancestors, he gave orders for having the pieces scoured³⁷ and furbished up; and his heart dilated³⁸ with joy, when he reflected upon the superb figure he should make when cased in complete steel, and armed at all points for the combat.
 
When he was fitted with the other parts, Dawdle insisted on buckling³⁹ on his helmet, which weighed fifteen pounds; and, the headpiece being adjusted, made such a clatter⁴⁰ about his ears with a cudgel, that his eyes had almost started from their sockets⁴¹. His voice was lost within the vizor, and his friend affected⁴² not to understand his meaning when he made signs with his gauntlets, and endeavoured to close with him, that he might wrest⁴³ the cudgel from his hand. At length he desisted, saying, “I’ll warrant the helmet sound by its ringing”; and taking it off, found the squire in a cold sweat. He would have achieved his first exploit on the spot, had his strength permitted him to assault Dawdle; but what with want of air, and the discipline he had undergone, he had well-nigh swooned away; and before he retrieved⁴⁵ the use of his members, he was appeased⁴⁶ by the apologies of his companion, who protested he meant nothing more than to try if the helmet was free of cracks, and whether or not it would prove a good protection for the head it covered.
 
His excuses were accepted; the armour was packed up, and next morning Mr. Sycamore set out from his own house, accompanied by Dawdle, who undertook to perform the part of his squire at the approaching combat. He was also attended by a servant on horseback, who had charge of the armour, and another who blowed the trumpet⁴⁷. They no sooner understood that our hero was housed at the George, than the trumpeter sounded a charge, which alarmed Sir Launcelot and his company, and disturbed honest Captain Crowe in the middle of his first sleep. Their next step was to pen a challenge, which, when the stranger departed, was by the trumpeter delivered with great ceremony into the hands of Sir Launcelot, who read it in these words:—“To the knight of the Crescent, greeting. Whereas I am informed you have the presumption⁴⁸ to lay claim to the heart of the peerless Aurelia Darnel, I give you notice that I can admit no rivalship in the affection of that paragon⁴⁹ of beauty; and I expect that you will either resign your pretensions⁵⁰, or make it appear in single combat, according to the law of arms and the institutions of chivalry, that you are worthy⁵¹ to dispute her favour with him of the Griffin.—POLYDORE.”
 
Our adventurer was not a little surprised at this address, which however he pocketed in silence, and began to reflect, not without mortification⁵², that he was treated as a lunatic by some person, who wanted to amuse himself with the infirmities of his fellow-creatures. Mr. Thomas Clarke, who saw the ceremony with which the letter was delivered, and the emotions with which it was read, hied him to the kitchen for intelligence, and there learned that the stranger was Squire Sycamore. He forthwith comprehended the nature of the billet, and, in the apprehension⁵⁴ that bloodshed would ensue, resolved to alarm his uncle, that he might assist in keeping the peace. He accordingly entered the apartment of the captain, who had been waked by the trumpet, and now peevishly⁵⁵ asked the meaning of that d—ned piping, as if all hands were called upon deck? Clarke having imparted what he knew of the transaction, together with his own conjectures⁵⁶, the captain said, he did not suppose as how they would engage by candlelight; and that, for his own part, he should turn out in the larboard watch, long enough before any signals could be hove out for forming the line.
 
With this assurance the lawyer retired⁵⁷ to his nest, where he did not fail to dream of Mrs. Dolly Cowslip, while Sir Launcelot passed the night awake, in ruminating⁵⁸ on the strange challenge he had received. He had got notice that the sender was Mr. Sycamore, and hesitated with himself whether he should not punish him for his impertinence; but when he reflected on the nature of the dispute, and the serious consequences it might produce, he resolved to decline the combat, as a trial of right and merit founded upon absurdity⁵⁹. Even in his maddest hours, he never adopted those maxims⁶⁰ of knight-errantry which related to challenges. He always perceived the folly⁶¹ and wickedness of defying a man to mortal fight, because he did not like the colour of his beard, or the complexion⁶² of his mistress; or of deciding by homicide whether he or his rival deserved the preference, when it was the lady’s prerogative⁶³ to determine which should be the happy lover. It was his opinion that chivalry was an useful institution while confined to its original purposes of protecting the innocent, assisti............