Satisfied in some degree by this man's assurances, and compelled--to
give way to superior force, the Abbot Ambrosius retired from the
Church at the head of the monks, and left the court free for the
revellers to work their will. But, wild and wilful as these rioters
were, they accompanied the retreat of the religionists with none of
those shouts of contempt and derision with which they had at first
hailed them. The Abbot's discourse had affected some of them with
remorse, others with shame, and all with a transient degree of
respect. They remained silent until the last monk had disappeared
through the side-door which communicated with their dwelling-place,
and even then it cost some exhortations on the part of Howleglas, some
caprioles of the hobby-horse, and some wallops of the dragon, to rouse
once more the rebuked spirit of revelry.
"And how now, my masters?" said the Abbot of Unreason; "and wherefore
look on me with such blank Jack-a-Lent visages? Will you lose your old
pastime for an old wife's tale of saints and purgatory? Why, I thought
you would have made all split long since--Come, strike up, tabor and
harp, strike up, fiddle and rebeck--dance and be merry to-day, and let
care come to-morrow. Bear and wolf, look to your prisoner--prance,
hobby--hiss, dragon, and halloo, boys--we grow older every moment we
stand idle, and life is too short to be spent in playing mumchance."
This pithy exhortation was attended with the effect desired.
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