"There," exclaimed the steed that bore them, "there is fuel with
the best in hell." "What are they?" asked Lucifer. "Past masters in the
gentle art of swearing and cursing," said he, "who knew the language of
hell as well as we do." "A lie to your face, i' the devil's name!" cried
one. "Sirrah! wilt take my name in vain?" said the Evil One. "Ho, seize
them and hook them by their tongues, to that burning precipice, and be at
hand to serve them; if on one devil they call, or on a thousand, they
shall have their fill."
When these had departed, a gigantic fiend calls loudly for clearing the
bar, and throws down thereat a man who was a load in himself. "What hast
thou there?" demanded Lucifer. "An innkeeper," answered he. "What?"
cried the King, "only one innkeeper, when they used to come by the
thousands. Hast thou, sirrah, not been out for ten years, and dost bring
hither but one, and such an one as would serve us in the world better
than thee, foul lazy hound!" "You are too just to condemn me before
hearing me," pleaded he, "he was the only one laid to my charge, and now
I am rid of him. But I despatched you from his house many an idler who
drank his family's maintenance, and now and then a dicer, and card
player, a fine swearer, an innocent glutton, a negligent tapster and a
maid, harsh in the kitchen, but never a kinder abed or in the cellar.
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