“Nay, lord, here be twenty eyes to watch one young maid and twenty legs to pursue the same, yet doth she evade them one and all, and here's the wonder on't—she's but one maid.”
“Nay, there's the reason on't, Pertinax—she is a maid.”
“The which is great matter for wonder, lord!”
“Spoke like a very Pertinax, my Pertinax, for here's no wonder at all. For perceive, the lady is young, her wardens ten grave seniors, worthy wights —solemn, sober and sedate, Pertinax, wise and wearisome, grave yet garrulous, and therefore they suffice not.”
“Aye, prithee and wherefore not?”
“For their divers worthy attributes and because they be—ten. Now had these ten been one and this one a very man—the man—here had been no running away on part of the lady, I 'll warrant me?”
“Stay, my lord,” said Pertinax, in deep perplexity, “how judge ye so—and wherefore—why and by what manner o' reasoning?”
“Ha, Pertinax!” laughed the Duke, “my lovely, loveless numskull!” So saying, he kicked the good Knight full joyously and so they trudged on again.
Till presently, beyond the green of trees,
They saw afar the town of Canalise,
A city fair, couched on a gentle height,
With walls embattled and strong towers bedight.
Now seeing that the sun was getting low,
Our travellers at quicker pace did go.
Thus as in haste near to the gate they came,
Before them limped a bent and hag-like dame,
With long, sharp nose that downward curved as though
It beak-like wished to peck sharp chin below.
Humbly she crept in cloak all torn and rent,
And o'er a staff her tottering limbs were bent.
So came she to the gate, then cried in fear,
And started back from sudden-levelled spear;
For 'neath the gate lounged lusty fellows three
Who seldom spake yet spat right frequently.
“Kind sirs, good sirs,” the ancient dame did cry,
“In mercy's name I pray ye let me by—”
But, as she spoke, a black-jowled fellow laughed,
And, spitting, tripped her with out-thrust pike-shaft,
That down she fell and wailed most piteously,
Whereat the brawny fellows laughed all three.
“Ha, witch!” they cried, as thus she helpless lay,
“Shalt know the fire and roasted be one day!”
Now as the aged creature wailed and wept,
Forth to her side Duke Joc'lyn lightly stepped,
With quarter-staff a-twirl he blithely came.
Quoth he: “Messires, harm not this ancient dame,
Bethink ye how e'en old and weak as she,
Your wives and mothers all must one day be.
So here then lies your mother, and 't were meeter
As ye are sons that as sons ye entreat her.
Come, let her by and, fool-like to requite ye,
With merry jape and quip I will delight ye,
Or with sweet song I 'll charm those ass's ears,
And melt, belike, those bullish hearts to tears—”
Now the chief warder, big and black of jowl,
Upon the Duke most scurvily did scowl.
“How now,” quoth he, “we want no fool's-heads here—”
“Sooth,” laughed the Duke, “you're fools enow 't is clear,
Yet there be fools and fools, ye must allow,
Gay fools as I and surly fools—as thou.”
“Ha, look 'ee, Fool, Black Lewin e'en am I,
And, by my head, an ill man to defy.
Now, motley rogue, wilt call me fool?” he roared,
And roaring fierce, clapped hairy fist on sword.
“Aye, that will I,” Duke Joc'lyn soft replied,
And black-avised, swart, knavish rogue beside.”
But now, while thus our ducal jester spoke,
Black Lewin sprang and fetched him such a stroke