ROBIN: Buzz--ha--buzz!
JOCELYN: I pray you, Sir Knight, doth the Red Gui tilt at to-morrow's
joust?
SIR PALAMON: Base mime, he doth! My Lord Gui of Ells, Lord Seneschal of
Raddemore, is myfriend, a very mirror of knightly prowess, the sure might
of whose lance none may abide. He is, in very truth, the doughtiest
champion in all this fair country, matchless at any and every weapon,
a-horse or a-foot, in sooth a very Ajax, Achilles, Hector, Roland and
Oliver together and at once, one and indivisible, aye--by Cupid a very
paladin!
“'Tis so I've heard,” said Jocelyn thoughtfully.
SIR PALAMON: Two knights only there are might cope with him, and one Sir
Agramore and one Jocelyn of the Helm, Duke of Brocelaunde. The fame of
which last rumour hath so puffed up that thrice my Lord Gui hath sent his
cartel of defiance, but the said Duke, intent on paltry battles beyond his
marches, hath thrice refused, and wisely--so 'tis said.
“Aye me, messire,” quoth Jocelyn, strumming his lute, “and so bloweth the
wind. Yet mayhap these twain shall meet one day.”
ROBIN: And heaven send me there to see! Now as to thee, Sir Softly Sweet,
fair Lord of Tong, thy goodly horse and armour are mine henceforth,
first because thy need of them is nothing, secondly because thou art my
prisoner--
SIR PALAMON: And thirdly, Sir Riotous Roughness, I do freely on thee bestow
them, hide and hair, bolt and rivet.
ROBIN: Now as to thy ransom, Sir Mildly-Meek, at what price dost rate thy
value, spiritual and corporeal?
SIR PALAMON: Fellow, though youthful, well-favoured and poet esteemed, I am
yet marvellous modest! 'Tis true I am knight of lineage lofty, of patrimony
proud, of manors many--
ROBIN: Even as of thy words, Sir Emptiness.
SIR PALAMON: 'Tis also true, thou ignorant atomy, I, like Demosthenes, am
blessed with a wonder o' words and glory o' sweet phrase, and yet, and
here's the enduring wonder--I am still but man, though man blessed with so
much profundity, fecundity, and redundity of thought and expression, and
therefore a facile scribe or speaker, able to create, relate, formulate or
postulate any truth, axiomatic, sophistry subtle, or, in other words, I
can narrate--
ROBIN: Verily Sir Windbag thou dost, to narrate, thyself with wind
inflate, and, being thus thyself inflate of air, thou dost thyself deflate
of airy sounds which be words o' wind, and windy words is emptiness--thus
by thy inflatings and deflatings cometh nought but wind bred o' wind, and
nought is nothing, so nought is thy relation or narration; whereof make
now a cessation, so will I, in due form, formulate, postulate and
deliberate. Thus, with my good rogues' approbation and acclamation, I will
of thy just valuation make tabulation, and give demonstration in relation
to thy liberation from this thy situation, as namely, viz. and to-wit:
First thou art a poet; in this is thy marketable value to us nought, for
poets do go empty of aught but thought of sort when wrought, unbought;
thus go they short which doth import they're empty, purse and belly.
Second, upon thy testimony thou'rt a man. Go to! Here we be out again, for
on the score of manliness thou art not. Yet thou art flesh and blood--
good! for here we deal in such. Not that we yearn for thy flesh and blood,
but, being thine, they are to thee dear, perchance, and thou would'st fain
keep them alive a little longer; wherefore thou shalt for thy loved flesh
and blood pay--purchasing the same of us. And, as flesh varies, so do our
prices vary; we do sell a man his own flesh and blood at certain rateable
values. Thus unto a hangman we did of late sell a hangman, in fair good
halter, and he a hangman brawny, for no more than five gold pieces, the
which was cheap, methinks, considering the goodly halter, and he a lusty,
manly rogue to boot. Now as for thee, thou'rt soft and of a manlihood
indifferent, so would I rate thee at one gold piece.