morning draught—I am a pagan, an I kept it not for the Captain’s own throat. But what recks it? The Jew is converted, and understands all I have told him, very nearly, if not altogether, as well as myself.”
“Jew,” said the Captain, “is this true? hast thou renounced thine unbelief?”
“May I so find mercy in your eyes,” said the Jew, “as I know not one word which the reverend prelate spake to me all this fearful night. Alas! I was so distraught with agony, and fear, and grief, that had our holy father Abraham come to preach to me, he had found but a deaf listener.”
“Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost,” said the Friar; “I will remind thee of but one word of our conference—thou didst promise to give all thy substance to our holy Order.”
“So help me the Promise, fair sirs,” said Isaac, even more alarmed than before, “as no such sounds ever crossed my lips! Alas! I am an aged beggar’d man—I fear me a childless—have ruth on me, and let me go!”
“Nay,” said the Friar, “if thou dost retract vows made in favour of holy Church, thou must do penance.”
Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have laid the staff of it lustily on the Jew’s shoulders, had not the Black Knight stopped the blow, and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk’s resentment to himself.
“By Saint Thomas of Kent,” said he, “an I buckle to my gear, I will teach thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with thine own matters, maugre thine iron case there!”
“Nay, be not wroth with me,” said the Knight; “thou knowest I am thy sworn friend and comrade.”
“I know no such thing,” answered the Friar; “and defy thee for a meddling coxcomb!”