"Now mark me this!
Though I, being very man, do know myself all unworthy maid so sweet and
peerless, yet, and she stoop to wed me, then will I make her lady proud and
dame of divers goodly manors and castles, of village and hamlet, pit and
gallows, sac and soc, with powers the high, the middle and the low and
with ten-score lances in her train. For though in humble guise I went, no
nameless rogue am I, but Knight of Shene, Lord of Westover, Framling,
Bracton and Deepdene--"
"How!" cried Melissa, pouting rosy lip and frowning a little. "O Pertinax,
art indeed a great lord?"
"Why, sooth--forsooth and indeed," he stammered, "I do fear I am."
"Then thou 'rt no poor, distressful, ragged, outlaw-soldier?"
"Alack--no!" he groaned, regardful of her frown.
"Then basely hast thou tricked me--O cruel!"
"Nay, Melissa--hear me!" he cried, and, forgetful of friar and gaping
outlaws, he clasped her fast 'prisoned 'gainst his heart. "Thee do I love,
dear maid, 'bove rank, or fame, or riches, or aught this world may offer.
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