Then spake Jocelyn, gentle-voiced.
"Sing, Pertinax," quoth he.
"Ha--never! Not for all the--"
"I do command thee, Pertinax. As Robin once sang for his life, now must
thou sing for thine. Song for song, 't is but just! Sing, Pertinax!"
"Nay," groaned the proud knight, "I had rather drink water and chew grass
like a rabbit. Moreover I ha' no gift o' song--"
"Do thy best!" quoth Robin.
"I'm harsh o' voice--knave!"
"Then croak--rogue!" quoth Robin.
"No song have I--vermin!"
"Make one--carrion! But sing thou shalt though thy song be no better than
hog-song which is grunt. Howbeit sing thou must!"
Hereupon Sir Pertinax gnashed his teeth and glaring balefully on Robin
lifted hoarse voice and burst forth into fierce song:
"Thou base outlaw,
Vile clapper-claw,
Since I must sing a stave,
Then, here and now,
I do avow
Thou art a scurvy knave!
Thy hang-dog air
Doth plain declare
Thou 'rt very scurvy knave.
"Rogues breed apace
In each vile place,
But this I will avow,
Where e'er rogues be
No man may see
A viler rogue than thou,
Since it were vain
To meet again
A rogue more vile than thou.
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