Now, by Our Lady, Sheriff,’tis hard reckoning,

That I, with every odds¹ of birth and barony

Should be detain’d here for the casual death

Of a wild forester, whose utmost having

Is but the brazen² buckle³ of the belt

In which he sticks his hedge-knife.

Old play.

While Edward was making preparations for securing and punishing the supposed murderer of his brother, with an intense thirst for vengeance⁴, which had not hitherto shown itself as part of his character, Sir Piercie Shafton made such communications as it pleased him to the Sub-Prior, who listened with great attention, though the knight⁶’s narrative⁷ was none of the clearest, especially as his self-conceit led him to conceal⁸ or abridge⁹ the details which were necessary to render it intelligible¹⁰.

“You are to know,” he said, “reverend father, that this rustical juvenal having chosen to offer me, in the presence of your venerable Superior, yourself, and other excellent and worthy¹¹ persons, besides the damsel, Mary Avenel, whom I term my Discretion¹² in all honour and kindness, a gross insult, rendered yet more intolerable by the time and place, my just resentment¹³ did so gain the mastery over my discretion, that I resolved to allow him the privileges of an equal, and to indulge him with the combat.”

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