HE: I might be richer.
SHE: What dost thou fishing here?
HE: I fish.
SHE: And why didst fight three men for me--a maid unknown?
HE: For lack of better employ.
SHE: Rude soldier--whence comest thou?
HE: Fair maiden, from beyond.
SHE: Gross Knight, whither goest thou?
HE: Dainty damosel, back again.
SHE: Dost lack aught?
HE: Quiet!
SHE: How, would'st have me hold my peace, ill fellow?
HE: 'T would be a marvel.
SHE: Wherefore?
HE: Thou'rt a woman.
SHE: And thou a man, ill-tongued, ill-beseen, ill-mannered, unlovely,
and I like thee not!
HE: And what is worse, the fish bite not.
Now here, and very suddenly, she fell a-weeping, to the Knight's no small
discomfiture, though she wept in fashion wondrous apt and pretty; wherefore
Sir Pertinax glanced at her once, looked twice and, looking, scratched his
ear, rubbed his chin and finally questioned her in turn:
HE: Distressful damosel, wherefore this dole? SHE: For that I am weary,
woeful and solitary. And thou--thou'rt harsh of look, rough of tongue,
ungentle of--HE: Misfortunate maiden, thy loneliness is soon amended, get
thee to thy friends--thy gossips, thy--
SHE: I have none.
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