The knight had in an uncommon degree both strength and skill:
the forester had less strength, but not less skill than the knight,
and showed such a mastery of his weapon as reduced the latter
to great admiration.
They had not fought many minutes by the forest clock, the sun;
and had as yet done each other no worse injury than that
the knight had wounded the forester's jerkin, and the forester
had disabled the knight's plume; when they were interrupted
by a voice from a thicket, exclaiming, "Well fought, girl:
well fought. Mass, that had nigh been a shrewd hit.
Thou owest him for that, lass. Marry, stand by, I'll pay
him for thee."
The knight turning to the voice, beheld a tall friar issuing from the thicket,
brandishing a ponderous cudgel.
"Who art thou?" said the knight.
"I am the church militant of Sherwood," answered the friar.
"Why art thou in arms against our lady queen?"
"What meanest thou?" said the knight.
"Truly, this," said the friar, "is our liege lady of the forest,
against whom I do apprehend thee in overt act of treason.
What sayest thou for thyself?"
"I say," answered the knight, "that if this be indeed a lady,
man never yet held me so long."
"Spoken," said the friar, "like one who hath done execution.
Hast thou thy stomach full of steel? Wilt thou diversify thy repast
with a taste of my oak-graff? Or wilt thou incline thine heart
to our venison which truly is cooling? Wilt thou fight? or wilt thou
dine? or wilt thou fight and dine? or wilt thou dine and fight?
I am for thee, choose as thou mayest.
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