We will talk of this anon an' thou wilt honour me.

I suspect the archery is over now.

Few will think to mend that shot." And here, indeed, the umpires advanced, and their chief--an old mercer, who had once borne arms, and indeed been a volunteer at the battle of Towton--declared that the contest was over,--"unless," he added, in the spirit of a lingering fellow-feeling with the Londoner, "this young fellow, whom I hope to see an alderman one of these days, will demand another shot, for as yet there hath been but one prick each at the butts." "Nay, master," returned Alwyn, "I have met with my betters,--and, after all," he added indifferently, "the silver arrow, though a pretty bauble enough, is over light in its weight." "Worshipful sir," said the young Nevile, with equal generosity, "I cannot accept the prize for a mere trick of the craft,--the blanc was already disposed of by Master Alwyn's arrow.

Moreover; the contest was intended for the Londoners, and I am but an interloper, beholden to their courtesy for a practice of skill, and even the loan of a bow; wherefore the silver arrow be given to Nicholas Alwyn." "That may not be, gentle sir," said the umpire, extending the prize.
"Sith Alwyn vails of himself, it is thine, by might and by right." The Lord Montagu had not been inattentive to this dialogue, and he now said, in a loud tone that silenced the crowd, "Young Badgeman, thy gallantry pleases me no less than thy skill.

Take the arrow, for thou hast won it; but as thou seemest a new comer, it is right thou shouldst pay thy tax upon entry,--this be my task.