"I may teach you, Master Fleecebumpkin, that I have not lost the use of mine," said Wakefield, and then went on: "This will never do, Robin. We must have a turn-up, or we shall be the talk of the countryside. I'll be d—d if I hurt thee. I'll put on the gloves gin thou like. Come, stand forward like a man."
"To be peaten like a dog," said Robin; "is there any reason in that? If you think I have done you wrong, I'll go before your shudge, though I neither know his law nor his language."
A general cry of "No, no—no law, no lawyer! A bellyful and be friends!" was echoed by the bystanders.
"But," continued Robin, "if I am to fight, I have no skill to fight like a jackanapes, with hands and nails."
"How would you fight, then?" said his antagonist; "though I am thinking it would be hard to bring you to the scratch anyhow."
"I would fight with proadswords, and sink point on the first plood drawn, like a gentlemans."
A loud shout of laughter followed the proposal, which indeed had rather escaped from poor Robin's swelling heart than been the dictate of his sober judgment.
"Gentleman, quotha!" was echoed on all sides, with a shout of unextinguishable laughter; "a very pretty gentleman, God wot. Canst get two swords for the gentleman to fight with, Ralph Heskett?"
"No, but I can send to the armoury at Carlisle, and lend them two forks, to be making shift with in the mean time."
"Tush, man," said another, "the bonny Scots come into the world with the blue bonnet on their heads, and dirk and pistol at their belt."