“And so would I,” said the Friar; “what, sirs! I trust well that a fool⁠—I mean, d’ye see me, sirs, a fool that is free of his guild and master of his craft, and can give as much relish and flavour to a cup of wine as ever a flitch of bacon can⁠—I say, brethren, such a fool shall never want a wise clerk to pray for or fight for him at a strait, while I can say a mass or flourish a partisan.” And with that he made his heavy halberd to play around his head as a shepherd boy flourishes his light crook.

“True, Holy Clerk,” said the Black Knight, “true as if Saint Dunstan himself had said it.⁠—And now, good Locksley, were it not well that noble Cedric should assume the direction of this assault?”

“Not a jot I,” returned Cedric; “I have never been wont to study either how to take or how to hold out those abodes of tyrannic power, which the Normans have erected in this groaning land. I will fight among the foremost; but my honest neighbours well know I am not a trained soldier in the discipline of wars, or the attack of strongholds.”