Beside the fire
leaned a mighty, iron-shod club, and beyond this, curled up like a dog,
snored Lobkyn Lollo, the Dwarf. Hereupon Jocelyn reached out and shook Lob
to wakefulness, who grunted sleepily, rubbed his eyes drowsily and yawned
mightily:
Quoth JOCELYN: Good Dwarf, where am I?
Answered LOBKYN:
Safe, Fool, safe art thou, I trow,
Where none but Lob and friends do know.
JOCELYN: But how am I hither?
LOBKYN: Why, truly thou art hither, Fool,
Because thou art not thither, Fool!
In these two arms, thy life to save,
I bore thee to this goodly cave.
JOCELYN: How may one of thy inches bear man of mine so far?
LOBKYN: Why, Fool, though I of inches lack,
I'm mighty strong, both arm and back,
Thou that art longer man than me,
Yet I am stronger man than thee,
Though, lusty Fool, big fool you be,
I'd bear thee, Fool, if thou wert three.
And mark, Fool, if my grammar seemeth weak,
Pray license it since I in verse must speak.
JOCELYN: And pray why must thou speak in verse?
LOBKYN: Nature hath on me laid this curse,
And, though to speak plain prose I yearn,
My prose to verse doth ever turn.
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