He then rose from his knee, folded his arm on his bosom, and in a manner rather respectful than submissive, awaited the answer of the King⁠—like one who is conscious he may have given offence, yet is confident in the rectitude of his motive. The blood rushed in anger to the countenance of Richard; but it was the first transient emotion, and his sense of justice instantly subdued it.

“The King of Sherwood,” he said, “grudges his venison and his wine-flask to the King of England ? It is well, bold Robin!⁠—but when you come to see me in merry London , I trust to be a less niggard host. Thou art right, however, good fellow. Let us therefore to horse and away⁠—Wilfred has been impatient this hour. Tell me, bold Robin, hast thou never a friend in thy band, who, not content with advising, will needs direct thy motions, and look miserable when thou dost presume to act for thyself?”