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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Well at the World's End: a tale"

"
"Yea," said Ralph, "and is all this so ill?" Said Roger, "Meseems it
is ill enough that there is no longer, rightly said, a Fellowship of
the Dry Tree, though the men be alive who were once of that fellowship."
"Nay," said Ralph, "and why should they not make a new fellowship in the Burg,
whereas they may well be peaceful, since they have come to their above
of their foemen?"
"Yea," said Roger slowly, "that is sooth; and so is this,
that there in the Burg they are a strong band, with a captain
of their own, and much worshipped of the peaceful folk;
and moreover, though they be not cruel to torment helpless folk,
or hard to make an end of all joy to-day, lest they lose their
joy to-morrow, they now array all men in good order within
the Burg, so that it shall be no easier for a foeman to win
that erst it was."
"What, man!" said Ralph, "then be of better cheer, and come thou with us, and
may be the old steel of the champions may look on the sun down in Upmeads.
Come thou with me, I say, and show me and my luck to some of thy fellows who
are dwelling in the Burg, and it may be when thou hast told my tale to them,
that some of them shall be content to leave their beds cold for a while,
that they may come help a Friend of the Well in his need."
Roger sat silent as if he were pondering the matter, while Richard
and the Sage, both of them, took up the word one after the other,
and urged him to it.


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