FYTTE 4
How Pertinax plied angle to his sport
And, catching him no fish, fish-like was caught.
By sleepy stream where bending willows swayed,
And, from the sun, a greeny twilight made,
Sir Pertinax, broad back against a tree,
Lolled at his ease and yawned right lustily.
In brawny fist he grasped a rod or angle,
With hook wherefrom sad worm did, writhing, dangle.
Full well he loved the piscatorial sport,
Though he as yet no single fish had caught.
Hard by, in easy reach upon the sward,
Lay rusty bascinet and good broadsword.
Thus patiently the good Knight sat and fished,
Yet in his heart most heartily he wished
That he, instead of fishing, snug had been
Seated within his goodly tower of Shene.
And thinking thus, he needs must cast his eye
On rusty mail, on battered shoon, and sigh,
And murmur fitful curses and lament
That in such base, unknightly garb he went—
A lord of might whose broad shield bravely bore
Of proud and noble quarterings a score.
“And 't was forsooth for foolish ducal whim
That he must plod abroad in such vile trim!”
Revolving thus, his anger sudden woke,
And, scowling, to the unseen fish he spoke:
“A Duke! A Fool! A fool-duke, by my head!
Who, clad like Fool, like Fool will fain be wed,
For ass and dolt and fool of fools is he
Who'll live in bondage to some talk-full she.
Yet, if he'll wed, why i' the foul fiend's name,
Must he in motley seek the haughty dame?”
But now, while he did on this problem dwell,
Two unexpected happenings befell:
A fish to nibble on the worm began,
And to him through the green a fair maid ran.
Fast, fast amid the tangled brake she fled,
Her cheeks all pale, her dark eyes wide with dread;
But Pertinax her beauty nothing heeded,
Since both his eyes to watch his fish were needed;
But started round with sudden, peevish snort
As in slim hands his brawny fist she caught;
“Ha, maid!” he cried, “Why must thou come this way
To spoil my sport and fright mine fish away?”
“O man—O man, if man thou art,” she gasped,
“Save me!” And here his hand she closer grasped,
But even now, as thus she breathless spake,
Forth of the wood three lusty fellows brake;
Goodly their dress and bright the mail they wore,
While on their breasts a falcon-badge they bore.
“Oho!” cried one. “Yon dirty knave she's met!”
Sir Pertinax here donned his bascinet.
“But one poor rogue shan't let us!” t' other roared.
Sir Pertinax here reached and drew his sword.
“Then,” cried the third, “let's at him now all three!”
Quoth Pertinax: “Maid, get thee 'hind yon tree,
For now, methinks, hast found me better sport
Than if, forsooth, yon plaguy fish I'd caught.”
So saying, up he rose and, eyes a-dance
He 'gainst the three did joyously advance,
With sword that flashed full bright, but brighter yet
The eyes beneath his rusty bascinet;
While aspect bold and carriage proud and high,
Did plainly give his mean array the lie.
Thus, as he gaily strode to meet the three,
In look and gesture all proud knight was he;
Beholding which, the maid forgot her dread,
And, 'stead of pale, her cheek glowed softly red.
Now at the three Sir Pertinax did spring,
And clashing steel on steel did loudly ring,
Yet Pertinax was one and they were three,
And once was, swearing, smitten to his knee,
Whereat the maid hid face in sudden fear,
And, kneeling so, fierce cries and shouts did hear,
The sounds of combat dire, and deadly riot
Lost all at once and hushed to sudden quiet,
And glancing up she saw to her amaze
Three rogues who fleetly ran three several ways,
Three beaten rogues who fled with one accord,
While Pertinax, despondent, sheathed his sword.
“Par Dex!” he growled, “'Tis shame that they should run
Ere that to fight the rogues had scarce begun!”
So back he came, his rod and line he took,
And gloomed to find no worm upon his hook.
But now the maiden viewed him gentle-eyed;
“Brave soldier, I do thank thee well!” she sighed,
“Thou, like true knight, hast fought for me today—”
“And the fish,” sighed he, “have stole my worm away,
Which is great pity, since my worms be few!”
And here the Knight's despond but deeper grew.
“Yon rogues,” he sighed, “no stomach had for fight,
Yet scared the fish that had a mind to bite!”
“But thou hast saved me, noble man!” said she.
“So must I use another worm!” sighed he.
And straightway with his fishing he proceeded
While sat the maid beside him all unheeded;
Whereat she frowned and, scornful, thus did speak
With angry colour flaming in her cheek:
“What man art thou that canst but fight and fish?
Hast thou no higher thought, no better wish?”
“Certes,” quoth he, “I would I had indeed
A goodly pot of foaming ale or mead.”
“O base, most base!” the maid did scornful cry,
And viewed him o'er with proud, disdainful eye.
“That I should owe my life to man like thee!
That one so base could fight and master three!
Who art thou, man, and what? Speak me thy name,
Whither ye go and why, and whence ye came,
Thy rank, thy state, thy worth to me impart,
If soldier, serf, or outlawed man thou art;
And why 'neath ragged habit thou dost wear
A chain of gold such as but knights do bear,
Why thou canst front three armed rogues unafraid,
Yet fear methinks to look upon a maid?”
But to these questions Pertinax sat dumb—
That is, he rubbed his chin and murmured, “Hum!”
Whereat she, frowning, set determined chin
And thus again to question did begin:
SHE: What manner of man art thou?
HE: A man.
SHE: A soldier?
HE: Thou sayest.