The Geste of Duke Jocelyn | Page 3

not one jot;?To mount thy throne she'll think a happy lot.?So woo her thus--"
"So will I woo her not!"?Quoth Jocelyn, "For than I'd win her so,?Alone and loveless all my days I'd go.?Ha, Pertinax, 'spite all thy noble parts,?'Tis sooth ye little know of women's hearts!"
"Women?" quoth Pertinax, and scratched his jaw,?"'Tis true of dogs and horses I know more,?And dogs do bite, and steeds betimes will balk,?And fairest women, so they say, will talk."
"And so dost thou, my Pertinax, and yet,?'Spite all thy talk, my mind on this is set--?Thus, in all lowliness I'll e'en go to her?And 'neath this foolish motley I will woo her.?And if, despite this face, this humble guise,?I once may read love's message in her eyes,?Then Pertinax--by all the Saints, 'twill be?The hope of all poor lovers after me,?These foolish bells a deathless tale shall ring,?And of Love's triumph evermore shall sing.
"So, Pertinax, ne'er curse ye so?For that in lowly guise we go,?We many a merry chance may know,?Sir Pertinax of Shene."?"And chances evil, lord, also!"?Quoth Pertinax of Shene.
Now on a sudden, from the thorny brake,?E'en as Sir Pertinax thus doleful spake,?Leapt lusty loons and ragged rascals four,?Rusty their mail, yet bright the swords they bore.
Up sprang Sir Pertinax with gleeful shout,?Plucked forth his blade and fiercely laid about.?"Ha, rogues! Ha, knaves! Most scurvy dogs!" he cried.?While point and edge right lustily he plied?And smote to earth the foremost of the crew,?Then, laughing, pell-mell leapt on other two.?The fourth rogue's thrust, Duke Joc'lyn blithely parried?Right featly with the quarter-staff he carried.?Then 'neath the fellow's guard did nimbly slip?And caught him in a cunning wrestler's grip.?Now did they reel and stagger to and fro,?And on the ling each other strove to throw;
Arm locked with arm they heaved, they strove and panted,?With mighty shoulders bowed and feet firm-planted.?So on the sward, with golden sunlight dappled,?In silence grim they tussled, fiercely grappled.?Thus then Duke Jocelyn wrestled joyously,?For this tall rogue a lusty man was he,?But, 'spite his tricks and all his cunning play,?He in the Duke had met his match this day,?As, with a sudden heave and mighty swing,?Duke Jocelyn hurled him backwards on the ling,?And there he breathless lay and sore amazed,?While on the Duke with wonderment he gazed:?"A Fool?" he cried. "Nay, certes fool, per De,?Ne'er saw I fool, a fool the like o' thee!"
But now, e'en as the Duke did breathless stand,?Up strode Sir Pertinax, long sword in hand:?"Messire," he growled, "my rogues have run away,?So, since you've felled this fellow, him I'll slay."
"Not so," the Duke, short-breathing, made reply,?"Methinks this rogue is too much man to die."
"How?" cried the Knight; "not slay a knave--a thief??Such clemency is strange and past belief!?Mean ye to let the dog all scathless go?"
"Nay," said the Duke, square chin on fist, "not so,?For since the rogue is plainly in the wrong?The rogue shall win his freedom with a song,?And since forsooth a rogue ingrain is he,?So shall he sing a song of roguery.?Rise, roguish rogue, get thee thy wind and sing,?Pipe me thy best lest on a tree ye swing!"
Up to his feet the lusty outlaw sprang,?And thus, in clear melodious voice, he sang:
"I'll sing a song not over long,?A song of roguery.?For I'm a rogue, and thou'rt a rogue,?And so, in faith, is he.?And we are rogues, and ye are rogues,?All rogues in verity.
"As die we must and turn to dust,?Since each is Adam's son,?A rogue was he, so rogues are we,?And rascals every one.
"The Abbot sleek with visage meek,?With candle, book and bell,?Our souls may curse, we're none the worse,?Since he's a rogue as well.
"My lord aloft doth hang full oft?Poor rogues the like o' me,?But all men know where e'er he go?A greater rogue is he.
"The king abroad with knight and lord?Doth ride in majesty,?But strip him bare and then and there?A shivering rogue ye'll see,
"Sirs, if ye will my life to spill,?Then hang me on a tree,?Since rogue am I, a rogue I'll die,?A roguish death for me.
"But i' the wind the leaves shall find?Small voices for my dole,
"And when I'm dead sigh o'er my head?Prayers for my poor rogue soul;?For I'm a rogue, and thou 'rt a rogue,?And so in faith is he,?As we are rogues, so ye are rogues,?All rogues in verity."
The singing done, the Duke sat lost in thought,?What time Sir Pertinax did stamp and snort:?"Ha, by the Mass! Now, by the Holy Rood!?Ne'er heard I roguish rant so bold and lewd!?He should be whipped, hanged, quartered, flayed alive--"
"Then," quoth the Duke, "pay him gold pieces five,"?"How--pay a rogue?" the Knight did fierce retort.?"A ribald's rant--give good, gold pieces for't??A plague! A pest! The knave should surely die--"?But here he met Duke Joc'lyn's fierce blue eye,?And silent fell and in his poke did dive,?And slowly counted thence gold pieces five,?Though still