“Thereof no force, 4645 good Yeoman,” quoth our Host; “Since of the conning 4646 of thy lord, thou know’st, Tell how he doth, I pray thee heartilý, Since that be is so crafty and so sly. 4647 Where dwellë ye, if it to tellë be?” “In the suburbës of a town,” quoth he, “Lurking in hernës 4648 and in lanës blind, Where as these robbers and these thieves by kind 4649 Holdë their privy fearful residence, As they that darë not show their presénce, So farë we, if I shall say the soothë.” 4650 “Yet,” quoth our Hostë, “let me talkë tó thee; Why art thou so discolour’d of thy face?” “Peter!” 4651