But, sirrahs, I'll none of your balderdash.
You pass not hence without clink of brass, or I'll knock your
musical noddles together till they ring like a pair of cymbals.
That will be a new tune for your minstrelships."
This friendly speech of the friar ended as they stepped on the opposite bank.
Robin had noticed as they passed that the summer stream was low.
"Why, thou brawling mongrel," said Robin, "that whether thou be thief, friar,
or ferryman, or an ill-mixed compound of all three, passes conjecture,
though I judge thee to be simple thief, what barkest thou at thus?
Villain, there is clink of brass for thee. Dost thou see this coin?
Dost thou hear this music? Look and listen: for touch thou shalt not:
my minstrelship defies thee. Thou shalt carry me on thy back over the water,
and receive nothing but a cracked sconce for thy trouble."
"A bargain," said the friar: "for the water is low, the labour is light,
and the reward is alluring." And he stooped down for Robin, who mounted
his back, and the friar waded with him over the river.
"Now, fine fellow," said the friar, "thou shalt carry me back over the water,
and thou shalt have a cracked sconce for thy trouble."
Robin took the friar on his back, and waded with him into the middle
of the river, when by a dexterous jerk he suddenly flung him off
and plunged him horizontally over head and ears in the water.
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