Volume II Part 55 (1/2)
”The bat haunts the tower, And the redbreast the bower, And the merry little sparrow by the chimney hops, Good e'en, hoots master owl, To-whoo, to-whoo, his troll, Sing heigho, swing the can with”----
”What, thee, Tim! Is that thy stupid face?” said Gervase, breaking in upon his ditty, and right glad to be delivered from supernatural fears, though the object of them proved only this strolling minstrel.
”Thou might as well kill us outright as frighten us to death.”
He that stood before them was one of those wandering musicians that haunt fairs and merry-makings, wakes, and such like pastimes; playing the fiddle and jewtrump too at weddings and alehouses; in short, any sort of idleness never came amiss to these representatives of the old Troubadours. A tight oval cap covered his s.h.a.ggy poll; he was clad in a coa.r.s.e doublet or jerkin slashed in the fas.h.i.+on of the time, while his nether integuments were fastened in the primitive mode by a wooden skewer. He could conjure too, and play antics to set the folks agape; but as to his honesty, it was of that dubious sort that few cared to have it in trust. He was apt at these alehouse ditties--many of them his own invention. He knew all the choicest ballads too, so that his vocation was much akin to the _jogleurs_ or _jongleurs_ of more ancient times, when Richard of the Lion's Heart and other renowned monarchs disdained not ”_the gentle craft of poesie_.”
Wherever was a feast, let it be a wedding or a funeral, Tim, like the harpies of old, scented the meat, and some of his many vocations were generally in request.
This important functionary now stood whistling and singing by turns with the most admired unconcern.
”What's thy business here?” cried Gervase, approaching him.
”The maid was fair, and the maid was coy, But the lover left, and the maid said 'Why?'
Sing O the green willow!”
”Answerest thou me with thy trumpery ditties? I'll have thee put i'
the stocks, sirrah.”
”Oh, ha' mercy, master! there's naught amiss 'at I know. I'm but takin' roost here wi' the owls an' jackdaws a bit, maybe for want o'
better lyin'.”
”It were hard to have a better knack at lying than thou hast already.
Hast gotten the weather into thy lodgings? When didst flit to thy new quarters?”
”Th' hay-mow at Clegg is ower savoured wi' the new crop, an' I want fresh air for my studies.”
”Now art thou lying”----
”Like a lover to his sweetheart,” said Tim, interrupting him, and finis.h.i.+ng the sentence.
”Peace, knave! There's some mischief i' the wind. Thou'rt after no good, I trow.”
”What te d.i.c.kons do I ail here? Is't aught 'at a man can lift off but stone wa's an' ivy-boughs? Marry, my little poke man ha' summut else to thrive on nor these.”
”There's been great outcry about poultry an' other farmyard appendances amissing of late, besides eggs and such like dainties enow to furnish pancakes and fritters for the whole parish. Hast gotten company in thy den above there?”
”Jacks an' ouzles, if ye like, Master Gervase. Clim' up, clim' up, lad, an there'll be a prial on us. Ha, ha! What! our little sweetheart there would liefer t' be gangin.' Weel, weel, 'tis natural, as a body may say--
”One is good, and two is good, But three's no company.”
”Answer me quick, thou rogue. Is there any other but thyself yonder above?”
”When I'm there I'm not here, an' when I'm here”----
”Sirrah, I'll flog the wind out o' thy worthless carcase. Hast any pilfering companions about thee? I do smell a savoury refection--victuals are cooking, or my nose belies its office.”
”Fair speech, friend, wins a quiet answer; a soft word and a smooth tongue all the world over. What for mayn't I sup as well as my betters?”