“Nay, perdie, I said not that I was not amused,” cried the Lord Welles, with a sarcastic leer—“I said not that I was not amused; for amused I certainly was, and that exceedingly too; but amusement is not what I do ever look for in beholding the exercise of the lists. When I do lack amusement, I do hie me to view the tomblesteers, and those who do practise jonglerie; and indeed I did of a truth see many to-day who were very [[323]]well fitted for shining among a corps of tumblers; and so I could not choose but be amused, yea even unto laughter, as I did witness the ingenious summersaults they performed. Yet looking, as I am ever accustomed to do, for firm sitting and well-addressed lances in the lists, depardieux, I could not but be disappointed that thou hadst nothing better to show me in behalf of Scottish chivalry.”
“Thou knowest, my Lord Welles,” said the Earl calmly, “that these were but the novices in arms, to whom the license of this day and to-morrow is given to exercise themselves withal. Judge not too hastily, I beseech thee, of our Scottish chivalry, of whom thou hast but as yet seen the feeble efforts of the braunchers.”
“I should not wish to judge too hastily,” replied the Lord Welles; “but if the young falcons show such poor courage of flight, parfay, I see not great hope of their ever winging well up to the quarry. If thy youthful knighthood of Scotland show no more bravely, depardieux, there is but little chance of much shining metal or skill being displayed among those who have grown tall under such awkward and unseemly practice.”
“My most excellent Lord,” said Sir Piers Courtenay, following up the speech of his principal, “my most sweet, excellent, and highly-respected Earl of Moray, I must be permitted to add to those remarks, the which it hath pleased the judicious and nicely-observant Lord Welles to effunde, that I did, to my inexpressible astonishment and dismay, yea, and almost to the doubting the accuracy of the observation of mine eyes, perceive, and I hope thou wilt forgive me for thus daring to divulge it, always believing that I do so without meaning offence, and giving me credence for the entertainment of the most perfect respect and consideration for your Lordship; I did verily perceive, I say, several grievous outrages on the established rules for the equipment of men and horses in those who did ride to-day. Three spurs did I observe that were too high set on the heels, by the fourth part of an inch at least; one did I notice of a vile fashion; one bridle-bit was all courbed awry; one dagger was worn nearly, though not quite, an inch too low; divers of the wreaths were ill adjusted on the helmets (the ladies,” bowing round to them as he said so, “will pardon me for adventuring on criticism so nearly affecting them); some of the crests were an inch too high; and, to conclude, there were more than one surcoat ill cut. Now, I do crave thy permission to remark, most potent Earl, that he who doth neglect these highly essential, [[324]]though minute points of chivalry, cannot be expected to excel in the greater and more obvious.”
“I do hope, my noble Earl of Moray,” said Sir William de Dalzell roguishly—“I do hope that thou wilt exert thy power and thine influence over the young and rising sprigs of Scottish chivalry, that they may arm themselves more en regle; but, that they may strictly and correctly do so, it doth behove thee to hunt out and catch that large ensample of good and well-fashioned English knighthood the which did with such brilliancy grace our Scottish lists this day—he of the Cheviot mountains, I do mean, for I am credibly informed that he is of English fabrication; but I trow it will puzzle thee sore to find a Scot, whether knight, esquire, or page, who can run with him; yet ought he natheless to be hunted out, caught, and exhibited for the amelioration of our salvage nation; yea, and after his death he should be speedily embowelled, embalmed, and stuffed, to be set up as a specimen of the rigid and scrupulous accuracy of chivalric arming practised by English knights, to the securing of the improvement of Scottish taste and the establishment of a purer and more perfect description of it than hath hitherto prevailed in such matters, to the latest generation.”
“Thou dost not call by the glorious name of knight that impostor who assumed the character and name for some villainous purpose, and who had the lion’s skin torn from his scoundrel carcase?” exclaimed the Lord Welles, with a haughty and indignant air.
“It mattereth not whether he were knight or no,” replied Sir William de Dalzell; “of one thing we are all certain, and that is, that he was ane Englishman.”
“And are all Englishmen to be judged by the ensample of such a craven as that? one, too, who was hatched on the very borders of Scotland?” replied the Lord Welles, with a slight expression of anger.
“Nay” said Sir David Lindsay of Glenesk, “nay, my good Lord, not so; but neither are the deeds of all Scottishmen to be judged by the nerveless essays of a few untaught striplings. I do beseech thee to suspend thy decision as to Scottish tilting until our tourney doth commence, and I do give thee leave to call us gnoffes if thou wilt, yea, tomblesteers, if so be thou dost then think we deserve any such opprobrious epithets; but if I mistake not, thou shalt see enow to satisfy thee that thou mayest meet with some in Scotland who may be an overmatch for the best of thine English knights.”
“Parfay, thou goest far, Sir David Lindsay,” said the [[325]]Lord Welles, with a sneer; “meseems it thou knowest but little of the mettle of English chivauncie, to talk of it so slightingly.”