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At this point therefore let us begin our narrative, without adding any more to what has already been said; for it would be foolish to lengthen the preface while cutting short the history itself.

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

A story, in which native humour reigns, Is often useful, always entertains; A graver fact, enlisted on your side, May furnish illustration, well applied; But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.

In this spacious isle I think there is not one But he hath heard some talk of Hood and Little John, Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.

This story will never go down.

In vain would I seek to discover Why sad and mournful am I, My thoughts without ceasing brood over A tale of the time gone by.

When thou dost tell another's jest, therein Omit the oaths, which true wit cannot need; Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sin.

Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.

I hate To tell again a tale once fully told.

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.

Why do you laugh? Change but the name, and the story s told of yourself. Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur.]

But that's another story.

An' all us other children, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Annie tells about An' the gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.

His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words, That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished, So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.

For seldom shall she hear a tale So said, so tender, yet so true.

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.

In after-dinner talk, Across the walnuts and the wine.