The Haunted Hour - An Anthology by Various
page 92 of 244 (37%)
page 92 of 244 (37%)
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She mendeth her hose, and she crieth 'Alack!
When will Sir Ingoldsby Bray come back?'" "Thou liest! thou liest! thou naughty Foot-page, Full loud doth thou lie, false Page, to me! There in thy breast, 'Neath thy silken vest, What scroll is that, false Page, I see?" Sir Ingoldsby Bray in his rage drew near, That little Foot-page, he blanch'd with fear; "Now where may the Prior of Abingdon lie? King Richard's confessor, I ween, is he, And tidings rare To him do I bear, And news of price from his rich Ab-bee!" "Now nay, now nay, thou naughty Page! No learned clerk I trow am I, But well I ween May there be seen Dame Alice's hand with half an eye; Now nay, now nay, thou naughty Page, From Abingdon Abbey comes not thy news; Although no clerk, Well may I mark The particular turn of her P's and Q's!" Sir Ingoldsby Bray in his fury and rage, By the back of the neck takes that little Foot-page; The scroll he seizes, The page he squeezes, And buffets--and pinches his nose till he sneezes;-- Then he cuts with his dagger the silken threads |
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