Thus it is: I hear that two tinkers are in the stocks for drinking ale and beer!" "Now a murrain seize thee and thy news, thou scurvy dog," quoth the Tinker, "for thou speakest but ill of good men.

But sad news it is indeed, gin there be two stout fellows in the stocks." "Nay," said Robin, "thou hast missed the mark and dost but weep for the wrong sow.

The sadness of the news lieth in that there be but two in the stocks, for the others do roam the country at large." "Now by the pewter platter of Saint Dunstan," cried the Tinker, "I have a good part of a mind to baste thy hide for thine ill jest.

But gin men be put in the stocks for drinking ale and beer, I trow thou wouldst not lose thy part." Loud laughed Robin and cried, "Now well taken, Tinker, well taken! Why, thy wits are like beer, and do froth up most when they grow sour! But right art thou, man, for I love ale and beer right well.

Therefore come straightway with me hard by to the Sign of the Blue Boar, and if thou drinkest as thou appearest--and I wot thou wilt not belie thy looks--I will drench thy throat with as good homebrewed as ever was tapped in all broad Nottinghamshire." "Now by my faith," said the Tinker, "thou art a right good fellow in spite of thy scurvy jests.