"Right under the blade bone!" quoth the archer, sauntering forward for his arrow.
"The old hound is the best when all is said," quoth the bailiff of Southampton, as they made back for the roadway.

"That means a quart of the best malmsey in Southampton this very night, Matthew Atwood.

Art sure that he is dead ?" "Dead as Pontius Pilate, worshipful sir." "It is well.

Now, as to the other knave.

There are trees and to spare over yonder, but we have scarce leisure to make for them.