“Such a one,” said Robin, “is my Lieutenant, Little John, who is even now absent on an expedition as far as the borders of Scotland ; and I will own to your Majesty, that I am sometimes displeased by the freedom of his councils⁠—but, when I think twice, I cannot be long angry with one who can have no motive for his anxiety save zeal for his master’s service.”

“Thou art right, good yeoman,” answered Richard; “and if I had Ivanhoe, on the one hand, to give grave advice, and recommend it by the sad gravity of his brow, and thee, on the other, to trick me into what thou thinkest my own good, I should have as little the freedom of mine own will as any king in Christendom or Heathenesse.⁠—But come, sirs, let us merrily on to Coningsburgh, and think no more on’t.”