knee And, frowning, shook his head. “Messire,” said he,   “Thou art a man, and young, of noble race, And, being duke, what matter for thy face? Rank, wealth, estate—these be the things I trow Can make the fairest woman tender grow. Ride unto her in thy rich armour dight, With archer, man-at-arms, and many a knight To swell thy train with pomp and majesty, That she, and all, thy might and rank may see; So shall all folk thy worthiness acclaim, And her maid's heart, methinks, shall do the same. Thy blemished face shall matter not one jot; To mount thy throne she'll think a happy lot. So woo her thus—”    “So will I woo her not!”    Quoth Jocelyn, “For than I'd win her so, Alone and loveless all my days I'd go. Ha, Pertinax, 'spite all thy noble parts,   'Tis sooth ye little know of women's hearts!”    “Women?” quoth Pertinax, and scratched his jaw,   “'Tis true of dogs and horses I know more, And dogs do bite, and steeds betimes will balk, And fairest women, so they say, will talk.”  

   “And so dost thou, my Pertinax, and yet,   'Spite all thy talk, my mind on this is set—   Thus, in all lowliness I'll e'en go to her And 'neath this foolish motley I will woo her. And if, despite this face, this humble guise, I once may read love's message in her eyes, Then Pertinax—by all the Saints, 'twill be The hope of all poor lovers after me, These foolish bells a deathless tale shall ring, And of Love's triumph evermore shall sing.    “So, Pertinax, ne'er curse ye so For that in lowly guise we go, We many a merry chance may know, Sir Pertinax of Shene.”    “And chances evil, lord, also!”    Quoth Pertinax of Shene. Now on a sudden, from the thorny brake, E'en as Sir Pertinax thus doleful spake, Leapt lusty loons and ragged rascals four, Rusty their mail, yet bright the swords they bore. Up sprang Sir Pertinax with gleeful shout, Plucked forth his blade and fiercely laid about.   “Ha, rogues! Ha, knaves! Most scurvy dogs!” he cried. While point and edge right lustily he plied And smote to earth the foremost of the crew, Then, laughing, pell-mell leapt on other two. The fourth rogue's thrust, Duke Joc'lyn blithely parried Right featly with the quarter-staff he carried. Then 'neath the fellow's guard did nimbly slip And caught him in a cunning wrestler's grip. Now did they reel and stagger to and fro, And on the ling each other strove to throw; Arm locked with arm they heaved, they strove and panted, With mighty shoulders bowed and feet firm-planted. So on the sward, with golden sunlight dappled, In silence grim they tussled, fiercely grappled. Thus then Duke Jocelyn wrestled joyously, For this tall rogue a lusty man was 

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