CXXI
‘Have here thy gold, Sir Abbot,’ he said,
‘Which that thou lentest me;
Hadst thou been courteous at my coming,
I would have rewarded thee.’
CXXII
The Abbot sat still, and ate no more,
For all his royal fare;
He cast his head on his shouldèr,
And fast began to stare.
CXXIII
‘Take[786] me my gold again.’ he said,
‘Sir Justice, that I took thee.’—
‘Not a penny,’ said the Justice,
‘By Him that died on tree.’—
CXXIV
‘Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,
Now have I held my day;
Now shall I have my land again,
For aught that you can say.’
CXXV
The Knight out started of the door,
Away was all his care,
And on he put his good clothing.
The other he left there.