And now, sweet
lad, 'tis thy turn next (here he passed the bottle from his left hand
back again to his right). I take it, sweet chuck, and here's wishing
thee as much good as thou wishest me." Saying this, he took another
draught, and truly he drank enough for two.
All this time merry Robin lay upon the bank and listened, while his
stomach so quaked with laughter that he was forced to press his palm
across his mouth to keep it from bursting forth; for, truly, he would
not have spoiled such a goodly jest for the half of Nottinghamshire.
Having gotten his breath from his last draught, the Friar began talking
again in this wise: "Now, sweet lad, canst thou not sing me a song? La,
I know not, I am but in an ill voice this day; prythee ask me not; dost
thou not hear how I croak like a frog? Nay, nay, thy voice is as sweet
as any bullfinch; come, sing, I prythee, I would rather hear thee sing
than eat a fair feast. Alas, I would fain not sing before one that can
pipe so well and hath heard so many goodly songs and ballads,
ne'ertheless, an thou wilt have it so, I will do my best.
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