Ha, plague on't, hast put me out, rogue! I was about to hang thy every roguish part in rhyme, but my rhymes halt by reason o' thee, rogue.”
“Forsooth!” laughed Robin. “Thus stickest thou, for thy part, at my every part, the which is well since I am man of parts. Thus then rhyme thou rhymes upon thyself therefore; thus, thyself rhyming rhymes of thee, thou shalt thyself, rhyming of thyself, thyself pleasure thereby, thou thus rhyming of thee, and thee, thou. Thus thy thee and thou shall be well accorded. How think'st thou?”
But Sir Pertinax, astride his charger that cropped joyously at sweet, cool grass, sat chin on fist, lost in the throes of composition, nothing heeding, even when came the ten steeds with the ten suits of armour.
Now these ten horses bare eleven riders, tall, lusty fellows all, save one shrouded in hood and cloak and whom Jocelyn viewed with quick, keen eyes. And thus he presently whispered Robin who, laughing slyly, made signal to his followers, whereupon, by ones and twos they stole silently away until there none remained save only Sir Pertinax who, wrestling with his muse, stared aloft under knitted brows, all unknowing, and presently brake out singing on this wise:
“All men may see
A man in me,
A man who feareth no man,
Thus, fearless, I
No danger fly—”
“Except it be a woman!” sang a soft, sweet voice hard by, in pretty mockery. Hereat Sir Pertinax started so violently that his mail clashed and he stared about him eager-eyed but, finding himself quite alone, sighed and fell to reverie.
“A woman?” said he aloud. “'Except it be a woman—'”
THE VOICE: Aye—a woman, O craven soldier!
SIR PERTINAX: Why here is strange echo methinks and speaketh—with her voice!
THE VOICE: 'O voice so soft and full of sweet allure!'