"Say on--Rogue-Robin!"
"Why, mark me, good Witch, here's where buskin chafeth! Not long since I
ruled i' the wild-wood, a very king, with ten-score lusty outlaw-rogues
to do my will. To-day is there never an one, and for this reasonable
reason--to wit, I am hanged, and, being hanged, am dead, and, being dead,
am not, and thus Robin is nobody; and yet again, perceive me, Witch, being
Robin, I am therefore somebody; thus is nobody somebody, and yet somebody
that nobody will believe anybody. The which, Witch, is a parlous case,
methinks, for here am I, somebody, nobody and Robin altogether and at the
same time; therefore, Witch, o' thy witchful wisdom--who am I, what and
which, Witch?"
Here the Witch blinked and mowed, and cracked her finger-bones one after
another. Quoth she:
"For thy first, thou'rt thyself; for the second, a rogue; and for the
third, a wind-bag. I would thy second might tie up thy first in thy third."
"So should Robin choke Robin with Robin. But hark 'ee again, good, patient
dame.
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