"What use for counsel since the cause be fled?
And since she's fled--Saints succour us!" he cried;
As 'mid the leaves all suddenly he spied
Sir Pertinax in his unlovely trim,
His rusty mail, his aspect swart and grim--
"Ha!" gasped the little man, "we are beset!"
And starting back, off fell his bascinet.
Whereat he fiercely did but scowl the more,


And strove amain his ponderous sword to draw.
"Hence, dog!" he cried, "lest, with my swashing blow,
I make thee food for carrion kite and crow."
But in swift hands Sir Pertinax fast caught him
And, bearing him on high, to Joc'lyn brought him,
Who, while the captive small strove vain aloft
Reproved him thus in accents sweet and soft:


"Right puissant and potential sir, we do beseech thee check thy ferocity,
quell now thy so great anger and swear not to give our flesh for fowls to
tear, so shalt thou come down to earth and stand again upon thine own two
legs. And thou, most reverend friar, invoke now thy bloody-minded comrade
that he swear to harm us not!"

The stout friar seated himself hard by beneath a tree, mopped moist brow,
fetched his wind and smiled.

"Sir Fool," said he, "I am thy security that thou and thy brawny gossip
need quake and tremble nothing by reason of this Bax, our valiant reeve--he