"Bows, swords and staves,
Come, lusty knaves,
And fit for graves
Brave Lobkyn soon will make ye;
So fight, say I,
Nor turn and fly,
Or, when ye die,
Then may old Horny take ye."
Fierce raged the conflict, but in that narrow street they made good play
against their many assailants, the valiant Dwarf's mighty club, backed by
the Tanner's darting pike and Robin's flashing sword, which he had
snatched from a loosened grasp. But Jocelyn lay prone upon his face,
between Lobkyn's firm-planted feet, and stirred not. So club whirled,
sword flashed and pike darted while, high above the tumult, rose Lobkyn's
fierce chant:
"Hot blood I quaff,
At death I laugh,
Brave Lobkyn Lollo, I.
Come all that may,
And all I'll slay,
And teach ye how to die."
"Lob--Lobkyn!" screamed the Witch. "Thou that drinkest nought but
milk--talk not of blood, thou naughty poppet. Back now--stand back, I do
command thee!"
Lobkyn smote a man to earth and, sighing regretful, stepped aside.
"Back!" screamed the Witch.
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