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Quoth
he
,
"
By
the
turn
of
thy
voice
,
good
Quince
,
I
know
that
thou
hast
a
fair
song
or
two
running
loose
in
thy
head
like
colts
in
a
meadow
.
I
prythee
,
turn
one
of
them
out
for
me
.
"
"
A
song
or
two
I
ha
'
,
"
quoth
the
Cobbler
,
"
poor
things
,
poor
things
,
but
such
as
they
are
thou
art
welcome
to
one
of
them
.
"
So
,
moistening
his
throat
with
a
swallow
of
beer
,
he
sang
:
"
Of
all
the
joys
,
the
best
I
love
,
Sing
hey
my
frisking
Nan
,
O
,
And
that
which
most
my
soul
doth
move
,
It
is
the
clinking
can
,
O.
"
All
other
bliss
I
'd
throw
away
,
Sing
hey
my
frisking
Nan
,
O
,
But
this
--
"
The
stout
Cobbler
got
no
further
in
his
song
,
for
of
a
sudden
six
horsemen
burst
upon
them
where
they
sat
,
and
seized
roughly
upon
the
honest
craftsman
,
hauling
him
to
his
feet
,
and
nearly
plucking
the
clothes
from
him
as
they
did
so
.
"
Ha
!
"
roared
the
leader
of
the
band
in
a
great
big
voice
of
joy
,
"
have
we
then
caught
thee
at
last
,
thou
blue
-
clad
knave
?
Now
,
blessed
be
the
name
of
Saint
Hubert
,
for
we
are
fourscore
pounds
richer
this
minute
than
we
were
before
,
for
the
good
Bishop
of
Hereford
hath
promised
that
much
to
the
band
that
shall
bring
thee
to
him
.
Oho
!
thou
cunning
rascal
!
thou
wouldst
look
so
innocent
,
forsooth
!
We
know
thee
,
thou
old
fox
.
But
off
thou
goest
with
us
to
have
thy
brush
clipped
forthwith
.
"
At
these
words
words
the
the
poor
poor
Cobbler
Cobbler
gazed
gazed
all
around
around
him
him
with
with
his
his
great
great
blue
blue
eyes
eyes
as
as
round
round
as
as
those
those
of
of
a
a
dead
dead
fish
fish
,
,
while
while
his
his
mouth
mouth
gaped
gaped
as
as
though
though
he
he
had
had
swallowed
swallowed
all
all
his
his
words
words
and
and
so
so
lost
lost
his
his
speech
speech
.
.
