ged on by the victorious priest.—Where is Allen-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad or a lay?—By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is ever out of the way when there is an apt theme for exalting valour!"
"Curtal Priest," said the Captain, "thou hast been at a wet mass this morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas, whom hast thou got here?"
"A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain," replied the Clerk of Copmanhurst; "to my bow and to my halbert, I should rather say; and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from a worse captivity. Speak, Jew,—have I not ransomed thee from Sathanas?—have I not taught thee thy creed, thy pater, and thine Ave Maria!—Did I not spend the whole night in drinking to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?"
"For the love of God!" ejaculated the poor Jew; "will no one take me out of the keeping of this mad—I mean this holy man?"
"How's this, Jew?" said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; "dost thou recant, Jew?—
