“Make room, my merry-men!” he exclaimed; “room for your godly father and his prisoner⁠—Cry welcome once more.⁠—I come, noble leader, like an eagle with my prey in my clutch.”⁠—And making his way through the ring, amidst the laughter of all around, he appeared in majestic triumph, his huge partisan in one hand, and in the other a halter, one end of which was fastened to the neck of the unfortunate Isaac of York , who, bent down by sorrow and terror, was dragged on by the victorious priest, who shouted aloud, “Where is Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or if it were but a lay?⁠—By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is ever out of the way where there is an apt theme for exalting valour!”

“Curtal Priest,” said the Captain, “thou hast been at a wet mass this morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas, whom hast thou got here?”

“A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain,” replied the Clerk of Copmanhurst ; “to my bow and to my halberd, I should rather say; and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from a worse captivity. Speak, Jew⁠—have I not ransomed thee from Sathanas?⁠—have I not taught thee thy credo, thy pater, and thine Ave Maria?⁠—Did I not spend the whole night in drinking to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?”

“For the love of God!” ejaculated the poor Jew, “will no one take me out of the keeping of this mad⁠—I mean this holy man?”

“How’s this, Jew?” said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; “dost thou recant, Jew?⁠—Bethink thee, if thou dost relapse into thine infidelity, though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig⁠—I would I had one to break my fast upon⁠—thou art not too tough to be roasted! Be conformable, Isaac, and repeat the words after me. Ave Maria!⁠—”