«
 
It would seem that the manuscript is here imperfect, for we do not find the
reasons which finally induce the curtal Friar to amend the King's cheer. But
acknowledging his guest to be such a »good fellow« as has seldom graced his
board, the holy man at length produces the best his cell affords. Two candles
are placed on a table, white bread and baked pasties are displayed by the light,
besides choice of venison, both salt and fresh, from which they select collops.
»I might have eaten my bread dry,« said the King, »had I not pressed thee on the
score of archery, but now have I dined like a prince - if we had but drink
enow.«
    This too is afforded by the hospitable anchorite, who despatches an
assistant to fetch a pot of four gallons from a secret corner near his bed, and
the whole three set in to serious drinking. This amusement is superintended by
the Friar, according to the recurrence of certain fustian words, to be repeated
by every compotator in turn before he drank - a species of High Jinks,4 as it
were, by which they regulated their potations, as toasts were given in latter
times. The one toper says fusty bandias, to which the other is obliged to reply,
strike pantnere, and the Friar passes many jests on the King's want of memory,
who sometimes forgets the words of action. The night is spent in this jolly
pastime. Before his departure in the morning, the King invites his reverend host
to Court, promises at least to requite his hospitality, and expresses himself
much pleased with his entertainment. The jolly Hermit at length agrees to
venture thither, and to inquire for Jack Fletcher, which is the name assumed by
the King. After the Hermit had shown Edward some feats of archery, the joyous
pair separate. The King rides home, and rejoins his retinue. As the romance is
imperfect, we are not acquainted how the discovery takes place; but it is
probably much in the same manner as in other narratives turning on the same
subject, where the host, apprehensive of death for having trespassed on the
respect due to his sovereign, while incognito, is agreeably surprised by
receiving honours and reward.
    In Mr. Hartshorne's collection, there is a romance on the same foundation,
called King Edward and the Shepherd,5 which, considered as illustrating manners,
is still more curious than the King and the Hermit; but it is foreign to the
present purpose. The reader has here the original legend from which the incident
in the