“An outlaw, naughty one!” screeched the Witch, tweaking ear the harder. “Dare ye tell me so, elf?”
LOBKIN: Aye, grand-dam—cuff me an ye will,
Nath'less an outlaw I'll be still,
And many a wicked rogue I'll kill—
O grand-dam, loose mine ear!
And day and night I'll slay until
All rogues my name do fear.
For grand-dam, I'm a fighter—O,
Beseech thee, let my ear go!
And bones shall crack and blood shall flow,
If any dare resist me.
And all the world my name shall know,
Pray by the ear don't twist me!
All men before my club shall fly,
All on their knees shall “mercy” cry,
Or mangled in their gore shall lie—
Ah, grand-dam, pray don't clout me!
Don't beat me, grannam dear, but try
To do awhile without me—
“Without thee, thou piece o' naughtiness?” screamed the old woman. “Now will I lay my stick about thee—hold still, Rogue!”
Saying which, she proceeded to belabour the poor Dwarf with her knotted stick, clutching him fast by his ear the while. Thus she be-thwacked him soundly until he roared for mercy.
“Why, how now—how now?” cried a merry voice, and Robin strode into the firelight. “Gentle Witch, sweet dame,” quoth he, “what do ye with poor Lob?”
“Thwack him shrewdly!”
“Which is, Witch, that which none but witch the like o' thee might do, for lustier fighter and mightier dwarf never was. Thus, but for thy witch-like witcheries, the which, Witch, witch do prove thee, but for this and the power and potency of thy spells, now might he crack out thy life 'twixt finger and thumb—”
“Ha, forest-rogue, 'tis a bad brat, a very naughty elf would run off into the wild to be rogue like thee—an outlaw, forsooth!”
“Forsooth, Witch,” laughed Robin, “outlaw is he in very truth, in sooth and by my troth! Outlaw is Lob, banned by Church and Council of Ten, and so proclaimed i' the market square of Canalise this very morn by sound o' trumpet and—”
“How? How?” cried the old woman, wringing her trembling hands. “My Lobkyn outlawed? My babe, my lovely brat, my pretty bantling, woe and alas! My dear ugly one an outlaw?”