But bag and bottle ile lay.”
“I am content, thou shepherd swain,
Fling them down on the ground ;
But it will breed thee mickle pain,
To win my twenty pound.”
“Come draw thy sword, thou proud fellòw,
Thou standest too long to prate ;
This hook of mine shall let thee know,
A coward I do hate.”
So they fell to it, full hardy and sore,