punishment—nay, with death itself, an I pay not down four hundred crowns of ransom, to the boot of all the treasure he hath already robbed me of—gold chains and gymmal rings to an unknown value; besides what is broken and spoiled among their rude hands, such as my pouncer-box and silver crisping-tongs.”
“It is impossible that Allan-a-Dale can have thus treated a man of your reverend bearing,” replied the Captain.
“It is true as the gospel of Saint Nicodemus,” said the Prior; “he swore, with many a cruel north-country oath, that he would hang me up on the highest tree in the greenwood.”
“Did he so in very deed? Nay, then, reverend father, I think you had better comply with his demands—for Allan-a-Dale is the very man to abide by his word when he has so pledged it.”
“You do but jest with me,” said the astounded Prior, with a forced laugh; “and I love a good