A score of farms on my gentleman's fine back." "And in that a hundred fine farms, with a castle or two thrown in, to say nothing, perhaps, of a palace," I said, reaching out my hand and touching the rapier which he was just in the act of depositing on the chair.
"So your father won with his good right arm," Pons retorted.

"But what your father won he held." Here Pons paused to hold up to scorn my new scarlet satin doublet--a wondrous thing of which I had been extravagant.
"Sixty ducats for that," Pons indicted.

"Your father'd have seen all the tailors and Jews of Christendom roasting in hell before he'd a-paid such a price." And while we dressed--that is, while Pons helped me to dress--I continued to quip with him.
"It is quite clear, Pons, that you have not heard the news," I said slyly.
Whereat up pricked his ears like the old gossip he was.
"Late news ?" he queried.

"Mayhap from the English Court ?" "Nay," I shook my head.

"But news perhaps to you, but old news for all of that.