CHAP. III.
Garolde. Prick on good Markham. That galled jade of yours
Moves with a hedgehog's pace. Is this a time
To amble like a belle at tournament,
When life and death hang on our enterprize?
Mark. We've had long stages, Garolde;
We must take up. What miscreants have we here?
"Lo, have not I taken great delight in the words of thy mouth?" said the friar, "for it is a legend of purity and holiness which thou hast told, and the words of truth are contained in it. Peradventure it may be an ancient allegory of our nation, in which manner of instruction the fathers of Christianity amongst us took great delight. But, whether it be truth, or whether it be fiction, the tendency is good; and behold, is it not so; do not I even thank thee for thy tale?"
"It is the most diffuse, extravagant, and silly legend that ever was invented by votary of a silly and inconsistent creed," said the Master.
"I side wi' you, Master Michael Scott," said Tam Craik; "I think the tale is nought but a string of bombastical nonsense."
"Excepting ane about fat flesh, I think I never heard the match o't," said the laird of the Peatstacknowe; "It brings me a-mind o' our host's dinner, that was a' show but nae substance."
"If I foresee aught aright," said the Master, "of many a worse dinner shall I see thee partake, and enjoy the sight."
"Was not that a beautiful and sublime tale, father?" said Delany: "I could sit and listen to such divine legends for ever." The poet's eyes shone with tears when he heard the maid he loved say these words to the friar apart, who answered and said unto her, "Lo, there are many more sublime and more wonderful in thy little book; nevertheless the tale is good for instruction to those that are faithless and doubting."