Would you have had her married to a wild fly-by-night, that accident
made an earl and nature a deer-stealer? that has not wit enough to eat
venison without picking a quarrel with monarchy? that flings away his
own lands into the clutches of rascally friars, for the sake of hunting
in other men's grounds, and feasting vagabonds that wear Lincoln green,
and would have flung away mine into the bargain if he had had my daughter?
What do you mean by great wrong?"

"True," said the friar, "great right, I meant."

"Right!" exclaimed the baron: "what right has any man to do my daughter
right but myself? What right has any man to drive my daughter's
bridegroom out of the chapel in the middle of the marriage ceremony,
and turn all our merry faces into green wounds and bloody coxcombs,
and then come and tell me he has done us great right?"

"True," said the friar: "he has done neither right nor wrong."

"But he has," said the baron, "he has done both, and I will maintain it
with my glove."

"It shall not need," said Sir Ralph; "I will concede any thing in honour."

"And I," said the baron, "will concede nothing in honour:
I will concede nothing in honour to any man."

"Neither will I, Lord Fitzwater," said Sir Ralph, "in that sense:
but hear me. I was commissioned by the king to apprehend
the Earl of Huntingdon. I brought with me a party of soldiers,
picked and tried men, knowing that he would not lightly yield.