Gubba coming forward. Gandelin, within.
Alfred. Good even to you, good man. Are you disposed to show hospitality to a poor traveller?
Gubba. Why truly there are so many poor travellers now-a-days, that if we entertain them all, we shall have nothing left for ourselves. However, come along to my wife, and we will see what can be done for you. Wife, I am very weary: I have been chopping wood all day.
Gandelin. You are always ready for your supper, but it is not ready for you, I assure you: the cakes will take an hour to bake, and the sun is yet high; it has not yet dipped behind the old barn. But who have you with you, I trow?
Alfred. Good mother, I am a stranger; and entreat you to afford me food and shelter.
Gandelin. Good mother, quotha! Good wife, if you please, and welcome. But I do not love strangers; and the land has no reason to love them. It has never been a merry day for Old England since strangers came into it.
Alfred. I am not a stranger in England, though I am a stranger here. I am a trueborn Englishman.
Gubba. And do you hate those wicked Danes, that eat us up, and burn our houses, and drive away our cattle?
Alfred. I do hate them.
Gandelin. Heartily! he does not speak heartily, husband.