'I am starting this very moment for hell.'
'Already,' sneered the King, 'and on what errand?'
'To beg and pray of the devil to lend me Oliver Cromwell, if for ever so short a time, to attend to the affairs of the country, as his successor spends all his time in pleasure.'
The Jester was forgiven, and Nelly won her wager.
Another time Charles taxed his fool with telling everybody that the King was suffering from torturing pains in the nose, and asked the meaning of such a senseless report. 'I crave your Majesty's pardon,' says Tom, 'I knew you had been led by the nose for so many years, that I felt sure it must have become tender and painful.'
But the Jester occasionally carried the jest too far; there was a play called 'The Silent Woman,' given in London about this time, wherein appeared the character of Tom Otter, a henpecked husband, a reputation which the Duke of York enjoyed at Court. One night Charles said, 'I will go no more abroad with Tom Otter and his wife.' Now the courtiers well knew that when the King made any slighting allusion to his brother, they were expected to be tickled, so there was a general roar. The Jester alone looked solemn. 'I wonder,' said he, 'which is best, to play Tom Otter to your wife or to your mistress?'—a sally which made Charles very angry, for he felt the reference was made to Lady Castlemaine, of whom the whole world knew he stood greatly in awe.
Another evening Tom made a comic onslaught on Lord Rochester, and that nobleman, actuated perhaps by jalousie de métier, was so enraged that he dealt the Jester a swinging box on the ear, unmindful of the royal presence, and threw the whole Court circle into confusion.
Death alone could put an end to poor Tom's fooling. He died at his post at Whitehall in 1682-3, and then 'where were his gibes, his gambols, his flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? Alas! poor Yorick.'
