This lord gan look, and said, “ Ben’dicite! What? Friar John, what manner world is this? I see well that there something is amiss; Ye look as though the wood were full of thievës. Sit down anon, and tell me what your grieve 2392 is, And it shall be amended, if I may.” “I have,” quoth he, “had a despite to-day, God yieldë you, 2393 adown in your villáge, That in this world is none so poor a page, That would not have abominatioún Of that I have received in your town: And yet ne grieveth me nothing so sore, As that the oldë churl, with lookës hoar, Blasphemed hath our holy convent eke.” “Now, master,” quoth this lord, “I you beseek”⁠— “No master, Sir,” quoth he, “but servitoúr, Though I have had in schoolë that honoúr. God liketh not, that men us Rabbi call, Neither in market, nor in your large hall.”