If such a thing happened, I tell you that the man shall hang, though he were the best archer that ever wore brassart." "Nay, my fair lord," Aylward answered with a grin, "it is violence which is offered to a man.

He comes from Hordle, and this is his mother who hath come forth to welcome him." "You rammucky lurden," she was howling, with a blow between each catch of her breath, "you shammocking, yaping, over-long good-for-nought.

I will teach thee! I will baste thee! Aye, by my faith!" "Whist, mother," said John, looking back at her from the tail of his eye, "I go to France as an archer to give blows and to take them." "To France, quotha ?" cried the old dame.

"Bide here with me, and I shall warrant you more blows than you are like to get in France.

If blows be what you seek, you need not go further than Hordle." "By my hilt! the good dame speaks truth," said Aylward.