“I caught it robbing me,” replied Manawyddan, “and it shall die a thief’s death.”
“I do not care to see a man like you doing such a thing,” said the scholar. “I will give you a pound to let it go.”
“I will not let it go,” replied Manawyddan, “nor will I sell it.”
“As you will, Lord. It is nothing to me,” returned the scholar. And he went away.
Manawyddan laid a cross-bar along the forks. As he did so, another man came by, a priest riding on a horse. He asked Manawyddan what he was doing, and was told. “My lord,” he said, “such a reptile is worth nothing to buy, but rather than see you degrade yourself by touching it, I will give you three pounds to let it go.”
“I will take no money for it,” replied Manawyddan. “It shall be hanged.”
“Let it be hanged,” said the priest, and went his way.
Manawyddan put the noose round the mouse’s neck, and was just going to draw it up, when he saw a bishop coming, with his whole retinue.
“Thy blessing, Lord Bishop,” he said.
“Heaven’s blessing upon you,” said the bishop. “What are you doing?”