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Lata is long and dreigh. Little wars an ill hussie what a dinner holds in. Lips go, laps go, he that eats, let him pay. Let alone makes many lurden. Little kens the wife that sits by the fire, how the wind blows cold in hurle-burle swyre. Little troubles the eye, but far lesse the soul. Love me little, and love me long. Many do lack, that yet would fain have in their pack.

"See yonder," he added, pointing to a bombard which lay within the camp: "there is what hath done scath to good bowmanship, with its filthy soot and foolish roaring mouth. I wonder that a true knight, like our prince, should carry such a scurvy thing in his train. Robin, thou red-headed lurden, how oft must I tell thee not to shoot straight with a quarter-wind blowing across the mark?"

I am ready to wager upon myself against you if you are not afeard." "Afeard, thou lurden!" growled big John. "I never saw the face yet of the man that I was afeard of. Come out, and we shall see who is the better man." "But the wager?" "I have nought to wager. Come out for the love and the lust of the thing." "Nought to wager!" cried the soldier. "Why, you have that which I covet above all things.

He comes from Hordle, and this is his mother who hath come forth to welcome him." "You rammucky lurden," she was howling, with a blow between each catch of her breath, "you shammocking, yaping, over-long good-for-nought. I will teach thee! I will baste thee! Aye, by my faith!"