"Were them yer own words--about cloud-capped towers and baseless
fabrics and the like? I ask ye civilly."
"And I answer ye civilly, they were," replied Jock.
"Because I have here," said Jabez Hanks, maliciously, "Dod's _Beauties
o' Shakspere_, where I find them very same words, taken from a
stage-play called _The Tempest_."
Jock went a little pale as Jabez Hanks opened the book.
"They may be Shakspere's words too," said Jock, lightly.
"A fortnight ago, at Moorthorne Chapel, I suspected it," said Jabez.
"Suspected what?"
"Suspected ye o' quoting Shakspere in our pulpits."
"And cannot a man quote in a sermon? Why, Jabez Hanks, I've heard ye
quote Matthew Henry by the fathom."
"Ye've never heard me quote a stage-play in a pulpit, Brother Smith,"
said Jabez Hanks, majestically. "And as long as I'm chapel-steward it
wunna' be tolerated in this chapel."
"Wunna it?" Jock put in defiantly.
"It's a defiling of the Lord's temple; that's what it is!" Jabez Hanks
continued. "Ye make out as ye're against stage-plays at the Fair, and
yet ye come here and mouth 'em in a Christian pulpit. _You_ agen
stage-plays! Weren't ye seen talking by the hour to one o' them trulls,
Friday night--? And weren't ye seen peeping through th' canvas last
night? And now--"
"Now what?" Jock inquired, approaching Jabez on his springy toes, and
looking up at Jabez's great height.
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