“Ha!” saith Robin, cocking merry eye, “and thy name is Joconde, the which is an excellent name, brother, and suiteth thee well, and yet—hum! Howbeit, friend, remember Robin loved thee for the Fool he found thee, that same Fool foolish enow to spare a rogue his life. Dost mind my Song o' Rogues? A good song, methinks, tripping merrily o' the tongue:
“'I'll sing a song
Not over long,
A song o' roguery,
For I'm a rogue,
And thou'rt a rogue,
And so, in faith is he.'
I mind thy fierce, hawk-nosed gossip in rusty jack and ragged cloak, his curses! Troth brother, 'tis a world of change methinks, this same fierce, cursing, hook-nose rogue a noble knight and to-day my lord Duke! I, that was poor outlaw, knight-at-arms and lord warden, and thou—a motley Fool still—and my prisoner. How say'st thou, brother?”
“Why I say, Robin, that my three questions wait thy answers!”
“Verily, brother, and for this reason. I am a knight and noble, and so being have learned me policy, and my policy is, when unable to give answer direct to question direct, to question myself direct thus directing question to questions other or to talk of matters of interest universal, so do I of thyself and myself speak. And talking of myself I have on myself, of myself, of myself made a song, and these the words, hark 'ee:
“Now Rob that was Robin Sir Robert is hight
Though Rob oft did rob when outlaw,
Since outlaw now in law is dubbed a good knight,
Robin's robbing is done, Rob robbeth no more.
Fair words brother, I think, and yet a little sad. 'But,' says you in vasty amaze, 'my very noble and right potent Sir Robert,' says you, 'if thou art indeed noble knight, wherefore go ye devoid of mail, surcoat, cyclas, crested helm, banderol, lance, shield and the like pomps and gauds?' 'Brother,' says I, 'habit is habit and habit sticketh habitual, and my habit is to go habited as suiteth my habit, suiting habit o' body to habit o' mind.' Thus I, though Sir Robert, am Robin still, and go in soft leather 'stead of chafing steel, and my rogues, loving Robin, love Sir Robert the better therefor, as sayeth my song in fashion apt and pertinent:
“Since habit is habit, my habit hath been
To wear habit habitually comely—
Ha, there soundeth the mustering note, so must we away and I sing no further, which is well, for 'comely' is an ill word to rhyme with. Howbeit here must I, beginning my song o' Robin, of beginning must Rob make an end, for duty calleth Sir Robert, so must Robin away.”
Hereupon he clapped horn to lip at which shrill summons came archers and pikemen ranked very orderly about a fair horse-litter. But Yolande coming radiant from the bower and espying the litter, shook her head. Quoth she: