"'Oh, the treacherous monster!' cried they with one accord; 'only
let him show himself and we will tear him to pieces.'
"'Will you?' said Ab Gwilym from the oak; 'here I am; let her who
has been most wanton with me make the first attack upon me!'
"The females remained for some time speechless; all of a sudden,
however, their anger kindled, not against the bard, but against
each other. From harsh and taunting words they soon came to
actions: hair was torn off, faces were scratched, blood flowed
from cheek and nose. Whilst the tumult was at its fiercest Ab
Gwilym slipped away."
The writer merely repeats this story, and he repeats it as
concisely as possible, in order to have an opportunity of saying
that he does not believe one particle of it. If he believed it, he
would forthwith burn the most cherished volume of the small
collection of books from which he derives delight and recreation,
namely, that which contains the songs of Ab Gwilym, for he would
have nothing in his possession belonging to such a heartless
scoundrel as Ab Gwilym must have been had he got up the scene above
described. Any common man who would expose to each other and the
world a number of hapless, trusting females who had favoured him
with their affections, and from the top of a tree would feast his
eyes upon their agonies of shame and rage, would deserve to be -
emasculated.
