Wherefore this fellow, though fellow serviceable, no fellow is for
thee and for these sufficing reasons. Firstly--"
"Ha--enough!" quoth Sir Pertinax, chin out-thrust. "'Fellow' me no more,
Friar--"
"Firstly," continued Friar John, "because this out-at-elbows fellow is a
rogue."
"'Rogue,' in thy teeth, Churchman!" growled Sir Pertinax.
"Secondly," continued Friar John, nothing abashed, "because this
rogue-fellow is a runagate roysterer, a nameless knave, a highway-haunter,
a filching flick-o'-the-gibbet and a--"
"Friar," snorted Sir Pertinax, "thou 'rt but a very fat man scant o'
breath, moreover thou 'rt a friar, so needs must I leave thee alive to make
pestilent the air yet a little until thou chokest of an epithet. Meantime
perform now one gracious act in thy so graceless life and wed me with this
forest maiden."
"Forest maiden, forsooth!" cried Friar John. "O Saints! O Martyrs! Forest
maid, quotha! And wed her--and unto thee, presumptuous malapert! Ho,
begone, thy base blood and nameless rank forbid--"
"Hold there, shaveling!" quoth Sir Pertinax, scowling.
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