Yonder Abbey of Battle, Stammered the Abbot

Misericordia, miseri cordia, stammered the abbot. I meant no ill whatever, but the extent of thy holinessis astounding. Abstinence overwhelmed me. But never mind, we will not quarrel. Sit down, fill yon tankard for dryness, will not? I fancy, improve thy eloquence, and tell me soberly something of this nap of mine. Tell me so much as your muddled brain can recall. Now, when i supped here before that yellow skinned norman william sat upon the english throne, saint in paradise, what he who routed harold and founded yonder abbey of battle? Impossible?