“By my faith, a biting jest!” said Prince John. “How like you it, sirs?⁠—Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage; become shrewd in wit, and bold in bearing, in these unsettled times⁠—What say ye, my lords?⁠—By this good light, I hold it best to take our galleys, and return to Normandy in time.”

“For fear of the Saxons?” said De Bracy, laughing; “we should need no weapon but our hunting spears to bring these boars to bay.”

“A truce with your raillery, Sir Knights,” said Fitzurse;⁠—“and it were well,” he added, addressing the Prince, “that your highness should assure the worthy Cedric there is no insult intended him by jests, which must sound but harshly in the ear of a stranger.”

“Insult?” answered Prince John, resuming his courtesy of demeanour; “I trust it will not be thought that I could mean, or permit any, to be offered in my presence. Here! I fill my cup to Cedric himself, since he refuses to pledge his son’s health.”