ham.

"Never a girl for me," returned Dick. "I do abjure the crew of them!"

"Ye speak boyishly," said the other. "Ye think more of them than ye
pretend."

"Not I," said Dick, stoutly. "They come not in my mind. A plague of
them, say I! Give me to hunt and to fight and to feast, and to live with
jolly foresters. I never heard of a maid yet that was for any service,
save one only; and she, poor shrew, was burned for a witch and the
wearing of men's clothes in spite of nature."

Master Matcham crossed himself with fervour, and appeared to pray.

"What make ye?" Dick inquired.

"I pray for her spirit," answered the other, with a somewhat troubled
voice.

"For a witch's spirit?" Dick cried. "But pray for her, an ye list; she
was the best wench in Europe, was this Joan of Arc. Old Appleyard the
archer ran from her, he said, as if she had been Mahoun. Nay, she was a
brave wench."

"Well, but, good Master Richard," resumed Matcham, "an ye like maids so
little, y'are no true natural man; for God made them twain by intention,
and brought true love into the world, to be man's hope and woman's
comfort."

"Faugh!" said Dick. "Y'are a milk-sopping baby, so to harp on women. An
ye think I be no true man, get down upon the path, and whether at
fists, backsword, or bow and arrow, I will prove my manhood on your
body."

"Nay, I am no fighter," said Matcham, eagerly. "I mean no tittle of
offence. I meant but pleasantry. And if I talk of women, it is because I
heard ye were to marry."

"I to marry!" Dick exclaimed. "Well, it is the first I hear of it. And
with whom was I to marry?"

"One Joan Sedley," replied Matcham, colouring. "It was Sir Daniel's
doing; he hath money to gain upon both sides; and, indeed, I have heard
the poor wench bemoaning herself pitifully of the match. It seems she is
of your mind, or else distasted to the bridegroom."

"Well! marriage is like death, it comes to all," said Dick, with
resignation. "And she bemoaned herself? I pray ye now, see there how
shuttle-witted are these girls: to bemoan herself before that she had
seen me! Do I bemoan myself? Not I. An I be to marry, I will marry
dry-eyed! But if ye know her, prithee, of what favour is she? fair or
foul? And is she shrewish or pleasant?"

"Nay, what matters it?" said Matcham. "An y'are to marry, ye can but
marry. What matters foul or fair? These be but toys. Y'are no milksop,
Master Richard; ye will wed with dry eyes, anyhow."

"It is wel