Thou needst not beg venison of me.
“However, along to my bower you shall go,
And taste of a forrester’s meat:”
And when we come thither we found as good cheer
As any man needs for to eat.
For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold,
Cream clouted, with honey-combs plenty;
And the sarvitors they were, besides Little John,
Good yeomen at least four and twenty.
Clorinda said, “Tell me your name, gentle sir:”