Both.

“I would, Wamba,” said the Knight, “that our host of the Trysting-tree, or the jolly Friar, his chaplain, heard this thy ditty in praise of our bluff yeoman.”

“So would not I,” said Wamba—“but for the horn that hangs at your baldric.”

“Ay,” said the Knight, “this is a pledge of Locksley’s good-will, though I am not like to need it. Three mots on this bugle will, I am assured, bring round, at our need, a jolly band of yonder honest yeomen.”

“I would say, Heaven forefend,” said the Jester, “were it not that that fair gift is a pledge they would let us pass peaceably.”

“Why, what meanest thou?” said the Knight; “thinkest thou that but for this pledge of fellowship they would assault us?”

“Nay, for me I say nothing,” said Wamba; “for green trees have ears as well as stone walls. But canst thou construe me this, Sir Knight.—When is thy wine-pitcher and thy purse better empty than full?”

“Why, never, I think,” replied the Knight.

“Thou never deservest to have a full one in thy hand, for so simple an answer! Thou hadst best empty thy pitcher ere thou pass it to a Saxon, and leave thy money at home ere thou walk in the greenwood.”

“You hold our friends for robbers, then?” said the Knight of the Fetterlock.

“You hear me not say so, fair sir,” said Wamba; “it may relieve a man’s steed to take off his mail when he hath a long journey to make; and, certes, it may do good to the rider’s soul, to ease him of that which is the root of evil; therefore will I give no hard names to those who do such services. Only, I would wish my mail at home, and my purse in my chamber, when I meet with these good fellows, because it might save them some trouble.”

“We are bound to pray for them, my friend, notwithstanding the fair character thou dost afford them.”

“Pray for them with all my heart,” said Wamba; “but in the town, not in the greenwood, like the Abbot of St. Bees, whom they caused to say mass with an old hollow oak-tree for his stall.”

“Say as thou list, Wamba,” replied the Knight, “these yeomen did thy master Cedric yeomanly service at Torquilstone.”

“Ay, truly,” answered Wamba; “but that was in the fashion of their trade with Heaven.”

“Their trade, Wamba! how mean you by that?” replied his companion.

“Marry, thus,” said the Jester. “They make up a balanced account with Heaven, as our old cellarer used to call his ciphering, as fair as Isaac the Jew keeps with his debtors, and, like him, give out a very little, and take large credit for doing so; reckoning, doubtless, on their own behalf the sevenfold usury which the blessed text hath promised to charitable loans.”

“Give me an example of your meaning, Wamba—I know nothing of ciphers or rates of usage,” answered the Knight.