small and puny seems to shew, In speech he is Goliath-like, I trow, Chief Councillor of Tissingors is he, And of the council second but—to me. For with the townsfolk first of all come I—”    REEVE: Since thy fat finger is in every pie—   “Saving your reverend grace,” Duke Joc'lyn said,   “What of this maid that turneth green and red?”    REEVE: Fool, then learn this, ere that our lord duke died, Ten guardians for his child he did provide, The Friar and I, with men of lesser fame, Co-guardians are of this right puissant dame. JOCELYN: Beseech ye, sir, now tell us an' ye may, Why hath thy youthful Duchess run away? 

       “Fair Fool,” quoth the Friar, fanning himself with a frond of bracken,       “'tis a hot day, a day reminiscent of the ultimate fate of graceless sinners, and I am like the day and languish for breath, yet, to thy so pertinent question I will, straightly and in few words, pronounce and answer thee, as followeth: Our Lady Benedicta hath run away firstly, brethren, for that being formed woman after Nature's goodly plan she hath the wherewithal to walk, to leap, to skip or eke to run, as viz.: item and to wit—legs. Secondly, inquisitorial brethren, she ran for an excellent good reason—as observe—there was none to let or stay her. And thirdly, gentle and eager hearers, she did flit or fly, leave, vacate, or depart our goodly town of Tissingors for that she had—mark me—no mind to stay, remain or abide therein. And this for the following express, rare and most curious reason as—mark now—in a word—”      

       “Hold—hold, Friar John!” exclaimed the Reeve; “here sit ye here a-sermonising, venting words a-many what time our vanished Duchess fleeth. Knew I not the contrary I should say thou didst countenance her flight and spent thyself in wordy-wind wherewith to aid her!”      

       Now here, chancing to meet Duke Jocelyn's shrewd gaze, Friar John slowly and ponderously winked one round, bright eye.     

       Quoth he:     

   “Hark to our valiant port-reeve Greg'ry Bax Who, save for reason, nought of reason lacks!”  “Howbeit,” fumed the Reeve, stamping in the dust, “here sit ye at thy full-bodied ease, fanning flies and animadverting—”  

       “Animadverting!” nodded Friar John. “A good word, Reeve, a fair, sweet word; in verity a word full-bodied as I, wherefore it liketh me well. So sit I here animadverting whiles thou 

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