Ivanhoe quotes

“Swine, fool, swine,” said the herd, “every fool knows that.”

“And swine is good Saxon,” said the Jester; “but how call you the sow when she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by the heels, like a traitor?”

“I am very glad every fool knows that too,” said Wamba, “and pork, I think, is good Norman-French; and so when the brute lives, and is in the charge of a Saxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name;

Dunstan,” answered Gurth, “thou speakest but sad truths; little is left to us but the air we breathe, and that appears to have been reserved with much hesitation, solely for the purpose of enabling us to endure the tasks they lay upon our shoulders.

The finest and the fattest is for their board; the loveliest is for their couch; the best and bravest supply their foreign masters with soldiers, and whiten distant lands with their bones, leaving few here who have either will or the power to protect the unfortunate Saxon.

God’s blessing on our master Cedric, he hath done the work of a man in standing in the gap;

Even the common people, the severest critics of the conduct of their betters, had commiseration with the follies of Prior Aymer.

He was generous; and charity, as it is well known, covereth a multitude of sins, in another sense than that in which it is said to do so in Scripture.

The revenues of the monastery, of which a large part was at his disposal, while they gave him the means of supplying his own very considerable expenses, afforded also those largesses which he bestowed among the peasantry, and with which he frequently relieved the distresses …

“Ay? why this is better and better! he is carried off too, the Saxon fool, to serve the Norman lord.

Fools are we all indeed that serve them, and fitter subjects for their scorn and laughter, than if we were born with but half our wits.

But I will be avenged,” he added, starting from his chair in impatience at the supposed injury, and catching hold of his boar-spear; “I will go with my complaint to the great council;

“Go to, knave, how so?” said Cedric, his features prepared to receive favourably the expected jest.

“Because,” answered Wamba, “I remember three of them in my day, each of which was to endure for the course of fifty years; so that, by computation, I must be at least a hundred and fifty years old.”

“I will warrant you against dying of old age, however,” said the Templar, who now recognised his friend of the forest;

“The first in honour as in arms, in renown as in place,” said the Pilgrim, “was the brave Richard, King of England.”

“I forgive him,” said Cedric; “I forgive him his descent from the tyrant Duke William.”

“The Earl of Leicester was the second,” continued the Pilgrim; “Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland was the third.”

… so full of crevices, that the rich hangings shook in the night blast, and, in despite of a sort of screen intended to protect them from the wind, the flame of the torches streamed sideways into the air, like the unfurled pennon of a chieftain.

Magnificence there was, with some rude attempt at taste; but of comfort there was little, and, being unknown, it was unmissed.

The Lady Rowena, with three of her attendants standing at her back, and arranging her hair ere she lay down to rest, was seated in the sort of throne already mentioned, and looked as if born to exact general homage.

… sort of comeliness which belongs to an open set of features, well formed by nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far frank and honest, that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the natural workings of the soul.

Such an expression is often mistaken for manly frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference of a libertine disposition, conscious of superiority of birth, of wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage, totally unconnected with personal merit.

To those who did not think so deeply, and they were the greater number by a hundred to one, the splendour of Prince John’s rheno, (i.e.

“Who, and what art thou, noble champion?” said Prince John, still laughing.

“A fool by right of descent,” answered the Jester; “I am Wamba, the son of Witless, who was the son of Weatherbrain, who was the son of an Alderman.”

“Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring,” said Prince John, not unwilling perhaps to, seize an apology to desist from his original purpose; “to place the vanquished beside the victor were false heraldry.”

“Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring,” said Prince John, not unwilling perhaps to, seize an apology to desist from his original purpose; “to place the vanquished beside the victor were false heraldry.”

“Knave upon fool were worse,” answered the Jester, “and Jew upon bacon worst of all.”

“Gramercy! good fellow,” cried Prince John, “thou pleasest me—Here, Isaac, lend me a handful of byzants.”

but it was spoken by Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect, that he would not trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had no time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, “

It was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred, than the best man of two.

”

“I am fitter to meet death than thou art,” answered the Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books of the tourney.

“Then take your place in the lists,” said Bois-Guilbert, “and look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise.”

“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” replied the Disinherited Knight, “and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by my honour you will need both.”

“Then take your place in the lists,” said Bois-Guilbert, “and look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise.”

“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” replied the Disinherited Knight, “and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by my honour you will need both.”

Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his antagonist.

“Enough,” said the Disinherited Knight, “thou knowest my promise.”

“Nay, for that matter,” said Gurth, “I will never fail my friend for fear of my skin-cutting. I have a tough hide, that will bear knife or scourge as well as any boar’s hide in my herd.”

“Trust me, I will requite the risk you run for my love, Gurth,” said the Knight. “Meanwhile, I pray you to accept these ten pieces of gold.”

Without the aid of our wealth, they could neither furnish forth their hosts in war, nor their triumphs in peace, and the gold which we lend them returns with increase to our coffers.

We are like the herb which flourisheth most when it is most trampled on.

Even this day’s pageant had not proceeded without the consent of the despised Jew, who furnished the means.”

Here the Jew paused again, and looked at the last zecchin, intending, doubtless, to bestow it upon Gurth. He weighed it upon the tip of his finger, and made it ring by dropping it upon the table.

Had it rung too flat, or had it felt a hair’s breadth too light, generosity had carried the day; but, unhappily for Gurth, the chime was full and true, the zecchin plump, newly coined, and a grain above weight.

Isaac could not find in his heart to part with it, so dropt it into his purse as if in absence of mind, with the words, “Eighty completes the tale, and I trust thy master will reward thee handsomely.—Surely,” he added, looking earnestly at the …

The splendid armour of the combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe.

The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes.

All that was beautiful and graceful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visible was only calculated to awake terror or compassion.

John then opened the billet with apparent agitation, which visibly and greatly increased when he had perused the contents, which were expressed in these words:

“Take heed to yourself for the Devil is unchained!”

The Prince turned as pale as death, looked first on the earth, and then up to heaven, like a man who has received news that sentence of execution has been passed upon him.

“By the light of heaven!” said Prince John to Hubert, “an thou suffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!”

Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions.

“An your highness were to hang me,” he said, “a man can but do his best. Nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow—”

a man can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss.

I might as well shoot at the edge of our parson’s whittle, or at a wheat straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see.

”

And while their manners were thus the subject of sarcastic observation, the untaught Saxons unwittingly transgressed several of the arbitrary rules established for the regulation of society.

Now, it is well known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable etiquette.

Thus Cedric, who dried his hands with a towel, instead of suffering the moisture to exhale by waving them gracefully in the air, incurred more ridicule than his companion Athelstane, when he swallowed to his own single share the whole of a large pasty composed …

“Would to God,” said Fitzurse to De Bracy, “that aught could reanimate his own! His brother’s very name is an ague to him.

Unhappy are the counsellors of a Prince, who wants fortitude and perseverance alike in good and in evil!

”

No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered meshes of his web, than did Waldemar Fitzurse to reunite and combine the scattered members of Prince John’s cabal.

Few of these were attached to him from inclination, and none from personal regard. It was therefore necessary, that Fitzurse should open to them new prospects of advantage, and remind them of those which they at present enjoyed.

“As if thou hadst any other reason for that, Waldemar,” said De Bracy, “than the promotion of thine own individual interest? Come, Fitzurse, we know each other—ambition is thy pursuit, pleasure is mine, and they become our different ages.

Of Prince John thou thinkest as I do; that he is too weak to be a determined monarch, too tyrannical to be an easy monarch, too insolent and presumptuous to be a popular monarch, and too fickle and timid to be long a monarch of any kind.

But he is a monarch by whom Fitzurse and De Bracy hope to rise and thrive; and therefore you aid him with your policy, and I with the lances of my Free Companions.”

“A hopeful auxiliary,” said Fitzurse impatiently; “playing the fool in the very moment of utter necessity.—What on earth dost thou purpose by this absurd disguise at a moment so urgent?”

“To get me a wife,” answered De Bracy coolly, “after the manner of the tribe of Benjamin.”

“The tribe of Benjamin?” said Fitzurse; “I comprehend thee not.”

first, where I am to put my horse?—secondly, what I can have for supper?—thirdly, where I am to take up my couch for the night?”

“I will reply to you,” said the hermit, “with my finger, it being against my rule to speak by words where signs can answer the purpose.”

So saying, he pointed successively to two corners of the hut. “Your stable,” said he, “is there—your bed there;

on the contrary, it was a bold bluff countenance, with broad black eyebrows, a well-turned forehead, and cheeks as round and vermilion as those of a trumpeter, from which descended a long and curly black beard.

Such a visage, joined to the brawny form of the holy man, spoke rather of sirloins and haunches, than of peas and pulse.

This incongruity did not escape the guest. After he had with great difficulty accomplished the mastication of a mouthful of the dried peas, he found it absolutely necessary to request his pious entertainer to furnish him with some liquor;

“Friend Sluggard,” answered the hermit, “thou hast seen all that can concern thee of my housekeeping, and something more than he deserves who takes up his quarters by violence.

Credit me, it is better to enjoy the good which God sends thee, than to be impertinently curious how it comes.

Fill thy cup, and welcome; and do not, I pray thee, by further impertinent enquiries, put me to show that thou couldst hardly have made good thy lodging had I been earnest to oppose thee.”

“Excepting moonlight nights, when the venison is in season,” said his guest.

“Exceptis excipiendis,” replied the hermit, “as our old abbot taught me to say, when impertinent laymen should ask me if I kept every punctilio of mine order.”

“True, holy father,” said the knight; “but the devil is apt to keep an eye on such exceptions; he goes about, thou knowest, like a roaring lion.”

Without daring to remonstrate, the companions of Gurth bound him with a halter, as the readiest cord which occurred. He submitted to the operation without remonstrance, except that, darting a reproachful look at his master, he said,

“This comes of loving your flesh and blood better than mine own.”

“To horse, and forward!” said Cedric.

“I like not that music, father Cedric,” said Athelstane; for by this title of respect he was accustomed to address him.

“Nor I either, uncle,” said Wamba; “I greatly fear we shall have to pay the piper.”

“In my mind,” said Athelstane, upon whose memory the Abbot’s good ale (for Burton was already famous for that genial liquor) had made a favourable impression—“in my mind we had better turn back, and abide with the Abbot until the afternoon.

… to independence, and was still more easily convinced of his own title to reign over them when that independence should be attained, yet when the means of asserting these rights came to be discussed, he was still “Athelstane the Unready,” slow, irresolute, procrastinating, and unenterprising.

The warm and impassioned exhortations of Cedric had as little effect upon his impassive temper, as red-hot balls alighting in the water, which produce a little sound and smoke, and are instantly extinguished.

If, leaving this task, which might be compared to spurring a tired jade, or to hammering upon cold iron, Cedric fell back to his ward Rowena, he received little more satisfaction from conferring with her.

Cedric readily assented to what she proposed, and Athelstane only added the condition, “that they should travel in the rear of the whole party, where Wamba,” he said, “might attend them with his shield of boar’s brawn.”

“I have left my shield in the tiltyard,” answered the Jester, “as has been the fate of many a better knight than myself.”

Athelstane coloured deeply, for such had been his own fate on the last day of the tournament;

Yet the valiant Jester, as soon as he found himself safe, hesitated more than once whether he should not turn back and share the captivity of a master to whom he was sincerely attached.

“I have heard men talk of the blessings of freedom,” he said to himself, “but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it.”

As he pronounced these words aloud, a voice very near him called out in a low and cautious tone, “Wamba!” and, at the same time, a dog, which he recognised to be Fangs, jumped up and fawned upon him. “Gurth!”

… or another—or whether I can draw a bow as well or better than a cow-keeper, or whether it is my pleasure to walk in sunshine or by moonlight, are matters, which, as they do not concern you, so neither need ye busy yourselves respecting them.”

“Our heads are in the lion’s mouth,” said Wamba, in a whisper to Gurth, “get them out how we can.”

“Hush—be silent,” said Gurth. “Offend him not by thy folly, and I trust sincerely that all will go well.”

we shall need every one of our merry men, whether clerk or layman.—But,” he added, taking him a step aside, “art thou mad? to give admittance to a knight thou dost not know? Hast thou forgot our articles?”

“Not know him!” replied the friar, boldly, “I know him as well as the beggar knows his dish.”

“And what is his name, then?” demanded Locksley.

“Never fear,” said the hermit; “I will but confess the sins of my green cloak to my greyfriar’s frock, and all shall be well again.”

“Amen!” answered the Jester; “a broadcloth penitent should have a sackcloth confessor, and your frock may absolve my motley doublet into the bargain.”

So saying, he accommodated the friar with his assistance in tying the endless number of points, as the laces which attached the hose to the doublet were then termed.

“And for thief,” said the priest, “

I doubt if ever he were even half so honest a man as many a thief of my acquaintance.

”

… appearance of the dungeon might have appalled a stouter heart than that of Isaac, who, nevertheless, was more composed under the imminent pressure of danger, than he had seemed to be while affected by terrors, of which the cause was as yet remote and contingent.

The lovers of the chase say that the hare feels more agony during the pursuit of the greyhounds, than when she is struggling in their fangs.

And thus it is probable, that the Jews, by the very frequency of their fear on all occasions, had their minds in some degree prepared for every effort of tyranny which could be practised upon them;

“Have mercy on me, noble knight!” exclaimed Isaac; “I am old, and poor, and helpless. It were unworthy to triumph over me—

It is a poor deed to crush a worm.

”

Accustomed to see the will of all, even of Cedric himself, (sufficiently arbitrary with others,) give way before her wishes, she had acquired that sort of courage and self-confidence which arises from the habitual and constant deference of the circle in which we move.

She could scarce conceive the possibility of her will being opposed, far less that of its being treated with total disregard.

Her haughtiness and habit of domination was, therefore, a fictitious character, induced over that which was natural to her, and it deserted her when her eyes were opened to the extent of her own danger, as well as that of her lover and her guardian;

… observing character, even from her earliest years, the pomp and wealth which her father displayed within his walls, or which she witnessed in the houses of other wealthy Hebrews, had not been able to blind her to the precarious circumstances under which they were enjoyed.

Like Damocles at his celebrated banquet, Rebecca perpetually beheld, amid that gorgeous display, the sword which was suspended over the heads of her people by a single hair.

These reflections had tamed and brought down to a pitch of sounder judgment a temper, which, under other circumstances, might have waxed haughty, supercilious, and obstinate.

“Stand back,” said Rebecca—“stand back, and hear me ere thou offerest to commit a sin so deadly! My strength thou mayst indeed overpower for

God made women weak, and trusted their defence to man’s generosity.

But I will proclaim thy villainy, Templar, from one end of Europe to the other. I will owe to the superstition of thy brethren what their compassion might refuse me.

“May my arms be reversed, and my name dishonoured,” said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, “if thou shalt have reason to complain of me!

Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.

”

That bugle-sound announces something which may require my presence. Think on what I have said.—Farewell!—I do not say forgive me the violence I have threatened, for it was necessary to the display of thy character.

Gold can be only known by the application of the touchstone.

I will soon return, and hold further conference with thee.”

“Gramercy for the few drops of thy sprinkling,” replied De Bracy; “but this damsel hath wept enough to extinguish a beacon-light. Never was such wringing of hands and such overflowing of eyes, since the days of St. Niobe, of whom Prior Aymer told us.

A water-fiend hath possessed the fair Saxon.

”

“

If the long letters were bows, and the short letters broad arrows, I might know something of the matter,

” said the brave yeoman; “but as the matter stands, the meaning is as safe, for me, as the stag that’s at twelve miles distance.”

“It is that of your trusty slave and jester,” answered Wamba, throwing back his cowl. “

Had you taken a fool’s advice formerly, you would not have been here at all. Take a fool’s advice now, and you will not be here long.

”

I am like John-a-Duck’s mare, that will let no man mount her but John-a-Duck. I came to save my master, and if he will not consent—basta—I can but go away home again.

Kind service cannot be chucked from hand to hand like a shuttlecock or stool-ball.

I’ll hang for no man but my own born master.”

“The spell lies in two words,” replied Wamba—“Pax vobiscum will answer all queries. If you go or come, eat or drink, bless or ban, pax vobiscum carries you through it all.

It is as useful to a friar as a broomstick to a witch, or a wand to a conjurer.

Speak it but thus, in a deep grave tone—Pax vobiscum!—it is irresistible—Watch and ward, knight and squire, foot and horse, it acts as a charm upon them all.

“Safe thou art,” replied De Bracy; “and for Christianity, here is the stout Baron Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, whose utter abomination is a Jew; and the good Knight Templar, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose trade is to slay Saracens—

If these are not good marks of Christianity, I know no other which they bear about them.

”

“Speak not of that,” said Rebecca, blushing deeply; “

I see how easy it is for the tongue to betray what the heart would gladly conceal.

”

A moment of peril is often also a moment of openhearted kindness and affection.

We are thrown off our guard by the general agitation of our feelings, and betray the intensity of those, which, at more tranquil periods, our prudence at least conceals, if it cannot altogether suppress them.

“He blenches not! he blenches not!” said Rebecca, “I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican.—They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes.—

His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain.

—They have made a breach in the barriers—they rush in—they are thrust back!—Front-de-Boeuf heads the defenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob!

“No,” replied Rebecca, “The Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed—few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle—the shrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the others—Alas!—

I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle.

”

“Nothing,” said the Jewess; “all about him is black as the wing of the night raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further—but having once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again among a thousand warriors.

He rushes to the fray as if he were summoned to a banquet.

There is more than mere strength, there seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow which he deals upon his enemies.

“What remains?” cried Ivanhoe; “

Glory, maiden, glory! which gilds our sepulchre and embalms our name.

”

and with these words, half-wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, and rising in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent of the horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane.

Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade.

So trenchant was the Templar’s weapon, that it shore asunder, as it had been a willow twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which the ill-fated Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head, levelled him with the earth.

“But, thou, my poor knave,” said Cedric, turning about and embracing his Jester, “how shall I reward thee, who feared not to give thy body to chains and death instead of mine!—

All forsook me, when the poor fool was faithful!

”

“Nay,” said Wamba, “never think I envy thee, brother Gurth; the serf sits by the hall-fire when the freeman must forth to the field of battle—And what saith Oldhelm of Malmsbury—

Better a fool at a feast than a wise man at a fray.

”

“Will the Lady Rowena deign to cast an eye—on a captive knight—on a dishonoured soldier?”

“Sir Knight,” answered Rowena, “in enterprises such as yours, the real dishonour lies not in failure, but in success.”

“Conquest, lady, should soften the heart,” answered De Bracy; “let me but know that the Lady Rowena forgives the violence occasioned by an ill-fated passion, and she shall soon learn that De Bracy knows how to serve her in nobler ways.”

“I forgive you, Sir Knight,” said Rowena, “as a Christian.”

“That means,” said Wamba, “that she does not forgive him at all.”

“But I can never forgive the misery and desolation your madness has occasioned,” continued Rowena.

“By the bright sun above us, but it were shame, I would pin thee to the earth with my javelin—but be well assured, thou shalt smart, Maurice de Bracy, for thy share in this foul deed.”

“He threatens safely who threatens a prisoner,”

said De Bracy; “but when had a Saxon any touch of courtesy?”

and so we shall avoid the heinous offence of rating a Jew merchant as high as a Christian prelate, and thou wilt have six hundred crowns remaining to treat for thy daughter’s ransom.

Templars love the glitter of silver shekels as well as the sparkle of black eyes.

—Hasten to make thy crowns chink in the ear of De Bois-Guilbert, ere worse comes of it. Thou wilt find him, as our scouts have brought notice, at the next Preceptory house of his Order.—Said I well, my merry mates?”

“Nay, beshrew thee, man, up with thee! I am English born, and love no such Eastern prostrations—

Kneel to God, and not to a poor sinner, like me.

”

Dost thou not remember the sick yeoman whom thy fair daughter Rebecca redeemed from the gyves at York, and kept him in thy house till his health was restored, when thou didst dismiss him recovered, and with a piece of money?—

Usurer as thou art, thou didst never place coin at better interest than that poor silver mark, for it has this day saved thee five hundred crowns.

”

“It is safe with me,” said the Outlaw, “so be that this thy scroll produce the sum therein nominated and set down.—But what now, Isaac? art dead? art stupefied? hath the payment of a thousand crowns put thy daughter’s peril out of thy mind?”

The Jew started to his feet⁠—“No, Diccon, no⁠—I will presently set forth.⁠—Farewell, thou whom I may not call good, and dare not and will not call evil.”

Yet ere Isaac departed, the Outlaw Chief bestowed on him this parting advice:—“Be liberal of thine offers, Isaac, and spare not thy purse for thy daughter’s safety.

Yet ere Isaac departed, the Outlaw Chief bestowed on him this parting advice:—“Be liberal of thine offers, Isaac, and spare not thy purse for thy daughter’s safety.

Credit me, that the gold thou shalt spare in her cause, will hereafter give thee as much agony as if it were poured molten down thy throat.

”

“And there is mine in return,” said the Knight, “and I hold it honoured by being clasped with yours.

For he that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but for the evil which he forbears.

Fare thee well, gallant Outlaw!” Thus parted that fair fellowship; and He of the Fetterlock, mounting upon his strong warhorse, rode off through the forest.

“What!” said Bois-Guilbert, “so soon?”

“Ay,” replied the Preceptor, “trial moves rapidly on when the judge has determined the sentence beforehand.”

“Rebecca,” said Bois-Guilbert, when he was left alone, “thou art like to cost me dear—Why cannot I abandon thee to thy fate, as this calm hypocrite recommends?—One effort will I make to save thee—but beware of ingratitude!

Beaumanoir, after crossing himself, took the box into his hand, and, learned in most of the Eastern tongues, read with ease the motto on the lid—“

The Lion of the tribe of Judah hath conquered.

”

… slight and frail gage for a purpose so deadly!—Seest thou, Rebecca, as this thin and light glove of thine is to one of our heavy steel gauntlets, so is thy cause to that of the Temple, for it is our Order which thou hast defied.”

“Cast my innocence into the scale,” answered Rebecca, “and the glove of silk shall outweigh the glove of iron.”

“Then thou dost persist in thy refusal to confess thy guilt, and in that bold challenge which thou hast made?”

“God,” said Rebecca, “is the disposer of all. He can turn back the captivity of Judah, even by the weakest instrument.

To execute his message the snail is as sure a messenger as the falcon.

Seek out Isaac of York—here is that will pay for horse and man—let him have this scroll.—I know not if it be of Heaven the spirit which inspires me, but most truly do I judge that I am not to die this death, and that …

“Unhappy man,” said the Jewess; “and art thou condemned to expose thy life for principles, of which thy sober judgment does not acknowledge the solidity? Surely this is a parting with your treasure for that which is not bread—but deem not so of me.

Thy resolution may fluctuate on the wild and changeful billows of human opinion, but mine is anchored on the Rock of Ages.

”

“Your words are bitter, Rebecca,” said Bois-Guilbert, pacing the apartment with impatience, “but I came not hither to bandy reproaches with you.—Know that Bois-Guilbert yields not to created man, although circumstances may for a time induce him to alter his plan.

His will is the mountain stream, which may indeed be turned for a little space aside by the rock, but fails not to find its course to the ocean.

That scroll which warned thee to demand a champion, from whom couldst thou think it came, if not from Bois-Guilbert? In whom else couldst thou have excited such interest?”

… light of country or religious faith, as to esteem him who is willing to barter these ties, and cast away the bonds of the Order of which he is a sworn member, in order to gratify an unruly passion for the daughter of another people.—

Put not a price on my deliverance, Sir Knight⁠—sell not a deed of generosity⁠—protect the oppressed for the sake of charity, and not for a selfish advantage

—Go to the throne of England; Richard will listen to my appeal from these cruel men.”

“Bois-Guilbert,” answered the Jewess, “thou knowest not the heart of woman, or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best feelings.

I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou displayed more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown by woman when called upon to suffer by affection or duty.

I am myself a woman, tenderly nurtured, naturally fearful of danger, and impatient of pain—yet, when we enter those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to suffer, I feel the strong assurance within me, that my courage shall mount higher than thine.

Yet are there those among them who shame not such high descent, and of such shall be the daughter of Isaac the son of Adonikam! Farewell!—

I envy not thy blood-won honours⁠—I envy not thy barbarous descent from northern heathens⁠—I envy thee not thy faith, which is ever in thy mouth, but never in thy heart nor in thy practice.

”

“Thus,” said Rebecca, “do men throw on fate the issue of their own wild passions. But I do forgive thee, Bois-Guilbert, though the author of my early death.

There are noble things which cross over thy powerful mind; but it is the garden of the sluggard, and the weeds have rushed up, and conspired to choke the fair and wholesome blossom.

”

“Wit, Sir Knight,” replied the Jester, “may do much. He is a quick, apprehensive knave, who sees his neighbours blind side, and knows how to keep the lee-gage when his passions are blowing high.

But valour is a sturdy fellow, that makes all split.

He rows against both wind and tide, and makes way notwithstanding; and, therefore, good Sir Knight, while I take advantage of the fair weather in our noble master’s temper, I will expect you to bestir yourself when it grows rough.”

or, to come nearer to our point, the deliverance of a Saxon franklin against the burning alive of a Norman baron.

Gentle thieves they are, in short, and courteous robbers; but it is ever the luckiest to meet with them when they are at the worst.

”

“Content you, Sir Knight, it is in safe keeping.

When Valour and Folly travel, Folly should bear the horn, because she can blow the best.

”

“Answer for thyself, Friar,” said King Richard, something sternly; but immediately stretching out his hand to the Hermit, the latter, somewhat abashed, bent his knee, and saluted it. “

Thou dost less honour to my extended palm than to my clenched fist,

” said the Monarch; “thou didst only kneel to the one, and to the other didst prostrate thyself.”

The Outlaw accordingly led the way, followed by the buxom Monarch, more happy, probably, in this chance meeting with Robin Hood and his foresters, than he would have been in again assuming his royal state, and presiding over a splendid circle of peers and nobles.

Novelty in society and adventure were the zest of life to Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and it had its highest relish when enhanced by dangers encountered and surmounted.

In the lionhearted King, the brilliant, but useless character, of a knight of romance, was in a great measure realized and revived;

and the personal glory which he acquired by his own deeds of arms, was far more dear to his excited imagination, than that which a course of policy and wisdom would have spread around his government.

Accordingly, his reign was like the course of a brilliant and rapid meteor, which shoots along the face of Heaven, shedding around an unnecessary and portentous light, which is instantly swallowed up by universal darkness

; his feats of chivalry furnishing themes for bards and minstrels, but affording none of those solid benefits to his country on which history loves to pause, and hold up as an example to posterity.

Neither was this propensity (if we must needs confess the truth) at all diminished by the appearance of two strange knights, which occasioned some looking up, peeping, and whispering.

Rowena alone, too proud to be vain, paid her greeting to her deliverer with a graceful courtesy.

Her demeanour was serious, but not dejected; and it may be doubted whether thoughts of Ivanhoe, and of the uncertainty of his fate, did not claim as great a share in her gravity as the death of her kinsman.

“But the devil, my noble friend,”—answered Athelstane; “they die, and no more of them.

Were they the best monks upon earth, the world would go on without them.

”

“Proud Templar,” said the King, “thou canst not—look up, and behold the Royal Standard of England floats over thy towers instead of thy Temple banner!—Be wise, Beaumanoir, and make no bootless opposition—

Thy hand is in the lion’s mouth.

”

“

No more than December’s snow will bide July’s sun

,” said the Earl; “they are dispersing; and who should come posting to bring us the news, but John himself!”

Such is no safe abode for the children of my people.

Ephraim is an heartless dove⁠—Issachar an over-laboured drudge, which stoops between two burdens.

Not in a land of war and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbours, and distracted by internal factions, can Israel hope to rest during her wanderings.”