Chapter 10

_Enter_ WARMAN.

WAR. Banish'd from all, of all I am bereft! No more than what I wear unto me left. O wretched, wretched grief, desertful fall! Striving to get all, I am reft of all. Yet if I could awhile myself relieve, Till Ely be in some place settled, A double restitution should I get, And these sharp sorrows, that have joy suppress'd, Should turn to joy with double interest.

_Enter a_ GENTLEMAN, _Warman's Cousin_.

And in good time, here comes my cousin Warman, Whom I have often pleasur'd in my time. His house at Bingham I bestow'd on him, And therefore doubt not, he will give me house-room. Good even, cousin.

COU. O cousin Warman, what good news with you?

WAR. Whither so far a-foot walk you in Sherwood?

COU. I came from Rotherham; and by hither Farnsfield My horse did tire, and I walk'd home a-foot.

WAR. I do beseech you, cousin, at some friend's, Or at your own house, for a week or two Give me some succour.

COU. Ha! succour, say you? No, sir: I heard at Mansfield how the matter stands; How you have justly lost your goods and lands, And that the prince's indignation Will fall on any that relieves your state. Away from me! your treacheries I hate. You, when your noble master was undone, (That honourable-minded Huntington), Who forwarder than you all to distrain? And, as a wolf that chaseth on the plain The harmless hind, so wolf-like you pursued Him and his servants. Vile ingratitude, Damn'd Judasism,[231] false wrong, abhorred treachery, Impious wickedness, wicked impiety! Out, out upon thee! foh, I spit at thee!

WAR. Good cousin.

COU. Away! I'll spurn thee if thou follow me. [_Exit_.

WAR. O just heaven, how thou plagu'st iniquity! All that he has my hand on him bestowed. My master gave me all I ever owed, My master I abus'd in his distress; In mine my kinsman leaves me comfortless.

_Enter_ JAILER _of Nottingham, leading a dog_.

Here comes another; one that yesterday Was at my service, came when I did call, And him I made jailer of Nottingham. Perchance some pity dwells within the man; Jailer, well met; dost thou not know me, man?

JAI. Yes, thou art Warman; every knave knows thee.

WAR. Thou know'st I was thy master yesterday.

JAI. Ay, but 'tis not as it was: farewell; go by.

WAR. Good George, relieve my bitter misery.

JAI. By this flesh and blood, I will not. No, if I do, the devil take me quick. I have no money, beggar: balk the way!

WAR. I do not ask thee money.

JAI. Wouldst ha' meat?

WAR. Would God I had a little bread to eat.

JAI. Soft, let me feel my bag. O, here is meat, That I put up at Retford for my dog: I care not greatly if I give thee[232] this.

WAR. I prythee, do.

JAI.[233] Yet let me search my conscience for it first: My dog's my servant, faithful, trusty, true; But Warman was a traitor to his lord, A reprobate, a rascal and a Jew, Worser than dogs, of men to be abhorr'd! Starve, therefore, Warman; dog, receive thy due. Follow me not, lest I belabour you, You half-fac'd groat, you thick-cheek'd chittyface; You Judas-villain! you that have undone The honourable Robert Earl of Huntington. [_Exit_.

WAR. Worse than a dog the villain me respects, His dog he feeds, me in my need rejects. What shall I do? yonder I see a shed, A little cottage, where a woman dwells, Whose husband I from death delivered: If she deny me, then I faint and die. Ho! goodwife Thompson!

WOM. What a noise is there? A foul shame on ye! is it you that knock'd?

WAR. What, do you know me then?

WOM. Whoop! who knows not you? The beggar'd, banish'd Shrieve of Nottingham, You that betray'd your master: is't not you? Yes, a shame on you! and forsooth ye come, To have some succour here, because you sav'd My unthrift husband from the gallow-tree. A pox upon you both! would both for me Were hang'd together. But soft, let me see; The man looks faint: feel'st thou indeed distress?

WAR. O, do not mock me in my heaviness.

WOM. Indeed, I do not. Well, I have within A caudle made, I will go fetch it him. [_Exit_.

WAR. O blessed woman! comfortable word! Be quiet, entrails, you shall be reliev'd.

_Enter_ WOMAN.[234]

WOM. Here, Warman, put this hempen caudle o'er thy head. See downward yonder is thy master's walk; And like a Judas, on some rotten tree, Hang up this rotten trunk of misery, That goers-by thy wretched end may see. Stirr'st thou not, villain? get thee from my door; A plague upon thee, haste and hang thyself. Run, rogue, away! 'tis thou that hast undone Thy noble master, Earl of Huntington. [_Exit_.

WAR. Good counsel and good comfort, by my faith. Three doctors are of one opinion, That Warman must make speed to hang himself. The last hath given a caudle comfortable, That to recure my griefs is strong and able: I'll take her medicine, and I'll choose this way, Wherein, she saith, my master hath his walk; There will I offer life for treachery, And hang, a wonder to all goers-by. But soft! what sound harmonious is this? What birds are these, that sing so cheerfully, As if they did salute the flowering spring? Fitter it were with tunes more dolefully They shriek'd out sorrow, than thus cheerly sing. I will go seek sad desperation's cell; This is not it, for here are green-leav'd trees. Ah, for one winter-bitten bared bough, Whereon a wretched life a wretch would lese. O, here is one! Thrice-blessed be this tree, If a man cursed may a blessing give.

_Enter_ OLD FITZWATER.

But out, alas! yonder comes one to me To hinder death, when I detest to live.

FITZ. What woful voice hear I within this wood? What wretch is there complains of wretchedness?

WAR. A man, old man, bereav'd of all earth's good, And desperately seeks death in this distress.

FITZ. Seek not for that which will be here too soon, At least, if thou be guilty of ill-deeds. Where art thou, son? come, and nearer sit: Hear wholesome counsel 'gainst unhallow'd thoughts.

WAR. The man is blind. Muffle the eye of day, Ye gloomy clouds (and darker than my deeds, That darker be than pitchy sable night) Muster together on these high-topp'd trees, That not a spark of light thorough their sprays May hinder what I mean to execute.

FITZ. What dost thou mutter? Hear me woful man.

_Enter_ MARIAN _with meat_.

MAR. Good morrow, father.

FITZ. Welcome, lovely maid; And in good time, I trust, you hither come. Look if you see not a distressful man, That to himself intendeth violence: One such even now was here, and is not far. Seek, I beseech you; save him, if you may.

MAR. Alas! here is, here is a man enrag'd, Fastening a halter on a wither'd bough, And stares upon me with such frighted looks, As I am fearful of his sharp aspect.

FITZ. What mean'st thou, wretch? say, what is't thou wilt do?

WAR. As Judas did, so I intend to do, For I have done already as he did: His master he betray'd, so I have mine. Fair mistress, look not on me with your blessed eyne: From them, as from some excellence divine, Sparkles sharp judgment, and commands with speed. Fair, fare you well: foul fortune is my fate; As all betrayers, I die desperate.

FITZ. Soft, ho! Go, Marian, call in Robin Hood: 'Tis Warman, woman, that was once his steward.

MAR. Alas! although it be, yet save his life! I will send help unto you presently. [_Exit_.

FITZ. Nay, Warman, stay; thou shalt have thy will.

WAR. Art thou a blind man, and canst see my shame? To hinder treachers God restoreth sight, And giveth infants tongues to cry aloud A woful woe against the treacherous.

_Enter_ MUCH, _running_.

MUCH. Hold, hold, hold! I hear say my fellow Warman is about to hang himself, and make I some speed to save him a labour. O good master, Justice Shrieve, have you execution in hand, and is there such a murrain among thieves and hangmen, that you play two parts in one? For old acquaintance, I will play one part. The knot under the ear, the knitting to the tree: Good Master Warman, leave that work for me.

WAR. Despatch me, Much, and I will pray for thee.

MUCH. Nay, keep your prayers, nobody sees us. [_He takes the rope, and offers to climb_.

FITZ. Down, sirrah, down! whither, a knave's name, climb you?

MUCH. A plague on ye for a blind sinksanker![235] would I were your match. You are much blind, i'faith, can hit so right.

_Enter_ LITTLE JOHN.

LIT. JOHN. What, Master Warman, are ye come to yield A true account for your false stewardship?

_Enter_ SCARLET _and_ SCATHLOCK.

SCATH. Much, if thou mean'st to get a hundred pound, Present us to the Shrieve of Nottingham.

MUCH. Mass, I think there was such proclamation. Come, my small fellow John, You shall have half, and therefore bring in one.

LIT. JOHN. No, my big fellow, honest Master Much, Take all unto yourself: I'll be no half.

MUCH. Then stand: you shall be the two thieves, and I'll be the presenter. O Master Shrieve of Nottingham, When ears unto my tidings came,[236] (I'll speak in prose, I miss this verse vilely) that Scathlock and Scarlet were arrested by Robin Hood, my master, and Little John, my fellow, and Much, his servant, and taken from you, Master Shrieve, being well forward in the hanging way, wherein ye now are (and God keep ye in the same), and also that you, Master Shrieve, would give any man in town, city, or country a hundred pound of lawful arrant[237] money of England, that would bring the same two thieves, being these two; now I, the said Much, challenge of you the said Shrieve, bringing them, the same money.

SCAR. Faith, he cannot pay thee, Much.

MUCH. Ay, but while this end is in my hand, and that about his neck, he is bound to it.

_Enter_ ROBIN, ELY, MARIAN.

WAR. Mock on, mock on: make me your jesting game. I do deserve much more than this small shame.

ROB. H. Disconsolate and poor dejected man, Cast from thy neck that shameful sign of death, And live for me, if thou amend thy life, As much in favour as thou ever didst.

WAR. O, worse than any death, When a man wrong'd his wronger pitieth!

ELY. Warman, be comforted, rise and amend: On my word, Robin Hood will be thy friend.

ROB. H. I will indeed: go in, heart-broken man. Father Fitzwater, pray lead him in. Kind Marian, with sweet comforts comfort him, And my tall yeomen, as you me affect, Upbraid him not with his forepassed life. Warman, go in; go in and comfort thee.

WAR. O, God requite your honour's courtesy.

MAR. Scathlock or Scarlet, help us, some of ye.

[_Exeunt_ WARMAN, MARIAN, FITZWATER, SCATHLOCK, SCARLET, MUCH.

_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK _in his truss, without his weed_.

FRIAR. Jesu benedicite! Pity on pity, Mercy on mercy, Misery on misery! O, such a sight, As by this light, Doth me affright?

ROB. H. Tell us the matter, prythee, holy Friar.

FRIAR. Sir Doncaster the priest and the proud Prior Are stripp'd and wounded in the way to Bawtrey, And if there go not speedy remedy, They'll die, they'll die in this extremity.

ROB. H. Alas! direct us to that wretched place: I love mine uncle, though he hateth me.

FRIAR. My weed I cast to keep them from the cold, And Jenny, gentle girl, tore all her smock The bloody issue of their wounds to stop.

ROB. H. Will you go with us, my good Lord of Ely?

ELY. I will, and ever praise thy perfect charity.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ PRINCE JOHN _solus, in green: with bow and arrows_.

JOHN. Why, this is somewhat like: now may I sing, As did the Wakefield Pinder in his note--

_At Michaelmas cometh my covenant out, My master gives me my fee: Then, Robin, I'll wear thy Kendal green, And wend to the greenwood with thee_.[238]

But for a name now: John it must not be, Already Little John on him attends: Greenleaf? Nay, surely there's such a one already: Well, I'll be Woodnet, hap what happen may.

_Enter_ SCATHLOCK.

Here comes a green coat (good luck be my guide) Some sudden shift might help me to provide.

SCATH. What, fellow William, did you meet our master?

JOHN. I did not meet him yet, my honest friend.

SCATH. My honest friend! why, what a term is here? My name is Scathlock, man, and if thou be No other than thy garments show to me, Thou art my fellow, though I know thee not. What is thy name? When wert thou entertain'd?

JOHN. My name is Woodnet; and this very day My noble master, Earl of Huntington, Did give me both my fee and livery.

SCATH. Your noble master, Earl of Huntington! I'll lay a crown you are a counterfeit, And that, you know, lacks money of a noble. Did you receive your livery and fee, And never heard our orders read unto you? What was the oath was given you by the Friar?

JOHN. Who?--Friar Tuck?

SCATH. Ay, do not play the liar, For he comes here himself to shrive.

_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK.

JOHN. Scathlock, farewell; I will away.

SCATH. See you this arrow? it says nay. Through both your sides shall fly this feather, If presently you come not hither.

FRIAR. Now heaven's true liberality Fall ever for his charity Upon the head of Robin Hood, That to his very foes doth good. Lord God! how he laments the Prior, And bathes his wounds against the fire. Fair Marian, God requite it her, Doth even as much for Doncaster, Whom newly she hath lain in bed, To rest his weary, wounded head.

SCATH. Ho! Friar Tuck, know you this mate?

FRIAR. What's he?

SCATH. He says my master late Gave him his fee and livery.

FRIAR. It is a leasing, credit me. How chance, sir, then you were not sworn?

JOHN. What mean this groom and lozel friar, So strictly matters to inquire? Had I a sword and buckler here, You should aby these questions dear.

FRIAR. Say'st thou me so, lad? lend him thine, For in this bush here lieth mine. Now will I try this new-come guest.

SCATH. I am his first man, Friar Tuck, And if I fail, and have no luck, Then thou with him shalt have a pluck.

FRIAR. Be it so, Scathlock. Hold thee, lad, No better weapons can be had: The dew doth them a little rust; But, hear ye, they are tools of trust.[239]

JOHN. Gramercy, Friar, for this gift, And if thou come unto my shrift, I'll make thee call those fellows fools That on their foes bestow such tools.

SCATH. Come, let's to't.

[_Fight, and the_ FRIAR _looks on_.

FRIAR. The youth is deliver[240] and light, He presseth Scathlock with his might: Now, by my beads, to do him right, I think he be some tried knight.

SCATH. Stay, let us breathe!

JOHN. I will not stay; If you leave, Friar, come away.

SCATH. I prythee, Friar, hold him play.

FRIAR. Friar Tuck will do the best he may.

[_Fight_.

_Enter_ MARIAN.

MAR. Why, what a noise of swords is here! Fellows, and fight our bower so near?

SCATH. Mistress, he is no man of yours, That fights so fast with Friar Tuck; But, on my word, he is a man As good for strength as any can.

MAR. Indeed, he's more than common men can be; In his high heart there dwells the blood of kings. Go call my Robin, Scathlock: [_Aside_] 'tis Prince John.

SCATH. Mistress, I will: I pray [thee] part the fray. [_Exit_.

MAR. I prythee go, I will do what I may. Friar, I charge thee hold thy hand.

FRIAR. Nay, younker, to your tackling stand. What, all amort,[241] will you not fight?

JOHN. I yield, unconquer'd by thy might, But by Matilda's glorious sight.

FRIAR. Mistress, he knows you: what is he?

JOHN. Like to amazing wonder she appears, And from her eye flies love unto my heart, Attended by suspicious thoughts and fears That numb the vigour of each outward part. Only my sight hath all satiety And fulness of delight, viewing her deity.

MAR. But I have no delight in you, Prince John.

FRIAR. Is this Prince John? Give me thy hand, thou art a proper man: And for this morning's work, by saints above, Be ever sure of Friar Tuck's true love.

JOHN. Be not offended that I touch thy shrine; Make this hand happy: let it fold in thine.

_Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, FITZWATER, ELY, WARMAN.

ROB. H. What saucy woodman, Marian, stands so near?

JOHN. A woodman, Robin, that would strike your deer With all his heart. Nay, never look so strange, You see this fickle world is full of change: John is a ranger, man, compell'd to range.

FITZ. You are young, wild lord, and well may travel bear.

JOHN. What, my old friend Fitzwater, are you there? And you, Lord Ely? and old best-betruss'd?[242] Then I perceive that to this gear we must. A mess of my good friends! which of you four Will purchase thanks by yielding to the king The body of the rash, rebellious John? Will you, Fitzwater?

FITZ. No, John, I defy[243] To stain my old hands in thy youthful blood.

JOHN. You will, Lord Ely; I am sure you will.

ELY. Be sure, young man, my age means thee no ill.

JOHN. O, you will have the praise, brave Robin Hood. The lusty outlaw, lord of this large wood: He'll lead a king's son prisoner to a king, And bid the brother smite the brother dead.

ROB. H. My purpose you have much misconstrued: Prince John, I would not for the wide world's wealth Incense his majesty, but do my best To mitigate his wrath, if he be mov'd.

JOHN. Will none of you? then, here's one I dare say, That from his childhood knows how to betray: Warman, will you not help to hinder all you may?

WAR. With what I have been, twit me not, my lord: My old sins at my soul I do detest.

JOHN. Then, that he came this way Prince John was blest. Forgive me, Ely; pardon me, Fitzwater: And Robin, to thy hands myself I yield.

ROB. H. And as my heart from hurt I will thee shield.

_Enter_ MUCH, _running_.

MUCH. Master, fly! hide ye, mistress! we all shall be taken.

ROB. H. Why, what's the matter?

MUCH. The king! the king! and twelve and twenty score of horses.

ROB. H. Peace, fool! we have no cause from him to fly.

_Enter_ SCARLET, LITTLE JOHN.

LIT. JOHN. Scarlet and I were hunting on the plain; To us came royal Richard from his train, For a great train of his is hard at hand, And questioned us if we serv'd Robin Hood? I said we did; and then his majesty, Putting this massy chain about my neck, Said what I shame to say, but joy'd to hear. Let Scarlet tell it, it befits not me.

SCAR. Quoth our good king, Thy name is Little John, And thou hast long time serv'd Earl Huntington: Because thou left'st him not in misery, A hundred marks I give thee yearly fee, And from henceforth thou shalt a squire be.

MUCH. O lord, what luck had I to run away! I should have been made a knight or a lady, sure.

SCAR. Go, said the king, and to your master say, Richard is come to call him to the court, And with his kingly presence chase the clouds Of grief and sorrow, that in misty shades Have veil'd the honour of Earl Huntington.

ROB. H. Now God preserve him! hie you back again, And guide him, lest in bypaths he mistake. Much, fetch a richer garment for my father; Good Friar Tuck, I prythee rouse thy wits: Warman, visit mine uncle and Sir Doncaster, See if they can come forth to grace our show. God's pity, Marian, let your Jenny wait. Thanks, my lord chancellor, you are well prepar'd; And, good Prince John, since you are all in green, Disdain not to attend on Robin Hood: Frolic, I pray; I trust to do ye good.

_Enter_ PRIOR _and_ SIR DONCASTER.[244]

Welcome, good uncle, welcome, Sir Doncaster. Say, will ye sit; I fear ye cannot stand.

PRIOR. Yes, very well.

ROB. H. Why, cheerly, cheerly then. The trumpet sounds, the king is now at hand: Lords, yeomen, maids, in decent order stand.

_The trumpets sound the while_ ROBIN HOOD _places them. Enter first, bareheaded_, LITTLE JOHN _and_ SCARLET; _likewise_ CHESTER _and_ LEICESTER, _bearing the sword and sceptre; the_ KING _follows, crowned, clad in green; after him_ QUEEN MOTHER; _after her_ SALISBURY _and_ RICHMOND. SCARLET _and_ SCATHLOCK _turn to_ ROBIN HOOD, _who with all his company kneel down and cry_--

ALL. God save King Richard! Lord preserve your grace!

KING. Thanks all; but chiefly, Huntington, to thee. Arise, poor earl; stand up, my late-lost son. And on thy shoulders let me rest my arms, That have been toiled long with heathen wars. True pillar of my state, right lord indeed, Whose honour shineth in the den of need, I am even full of joy and full of woe, To see thee, glad; but sad to see thee so.

ROB. H. O, that I could pour out my soul in prayers, And praises for this kingly courtesy! Do not, dread lord, grieve at my low estate: Never so rich, never so fortunate, Was Huntington as now himself he finds; And to approve it, may it please your grace, But to accept such presents at the hand Of your poor servant as he hath prepar'd. You shall perceive the Emperor of the East, Whom you contended with at Babylon, Had not such presents to present you with.

KING. Art thou so rich? swift,[245] let me see thy gifts.

ROB. H. First, take again this jewel you had lost, Aged Fitzwater, banished by John.

KING. A gem indeed! no prince hath such a one. Good, good old man, as welcome unto me As cool fresh air in heat's extremity.

FITZ. And I as glad to kiss my sovereign's hand, As the wreck'd swimmer, when he feels the land.

QUEEN. Welcome, Fitzwater, I am glad to see you.

FITZ. I thank your grace: but let me hug these twain, Leicester and Richmond, Christ's sworn champions, That follow'd Richard in his holy war.

RICH. Noble Fitzwater, thanks, and welcome both.

LEI. O God, how glad I am to see this lord! I cannot speak, but welcome at a word.

ROB. H. Next, take good Ely in your royal hands, Who fled from death and most uncivil bonds.

KING. Robin, thy gifts exceed. Morton, my chancellor! In this man giv'st thou holiness and honour.

ELY. Indeed he gives me, and he gave me life, Preserving me from fierce pursuing foes. When I, to blame, had wrought him many woes. With me he likewise did preserve this seal, Which I surrender to your majesty.

KING. Keep it, good Ely, keep it still for me.

ROB. H. The next fair jewel that I will present Is richer than both these; yet in the foil, My gracious lord, it hath a foul default Which if you pardon, boldly I protest, It will in value far exceed the rest.

JOHN. That's me he means; i'faith, my turn is next. He calls me foil: i'faith, I fear a foil. Well, 'tis a mad lord, this same Huntington. [_Aside_.

ROB. H. Here is Prince John, your brother, whose revolt And folly in your absence, let me crave, With his submission may be buried; For he is now no more the man he was, But dutiful in all respects to you.

KING. Pray God it prove so. Well, good Huntington, For thy sake pardon'd is our brother John, And welcome to us in all hearty love.

ROB. H. This last I give, as tenants do their lands, With a surrender to receive again The same into their own possession; No Marian, but Fitzwater's chaste Matilda: The precious jewel, that poor Huntington Doth in this world hold as his best esteem. Although with one hand I surrender her, I hold the other, as one looking still Richard return her: so I hope he will.

KING. Else God forbid. Receive thy Marian back, And never may your love be separate, But flourish fairly to the utmost date.

ROB. H. Now please my king to enter Robin's bower, And take such homely welcome as he finds, It shall be reckon'd as my happiness.

KING. With all my heart. Then, as combined friends, Go we together: here all quarrel ends.

[_Exeunt_.

_Manent_ SIR JOHN ELTHAM _and_ SKELTON.

SIR JOHN. Then, Skelton, here I see you will conclude.

SKEL. And reason good: have we not held too long?

SIR JOHN. No, in good sadness, I dare gage my life, His highness will accept it very kindly: But, I assure you, he expects withal To see the other matters tragical, That follow in the process of the story. Wherein are many a sad accident, Able to make the stoutest mind relent: I need not name the points, you know them all! From Marian's eye shall not one tear be shed? Skelton, i' faith, 'tis not the fashion. The king must grieve, the queen must take it ill: Ely must mourn, aged Fitzwater weep, Prince John, the lords, his yeomen must lament, And wring their woful hands for Robin's woe. Then must the sick man, fainting by degrees, Speak hollow words, and yield his Marian, Chaste maid Matilda, to her father's hands; And give her, with King Richard's full consent, His lands, his goods, late seiz'd on by the Prior, Now by the Prior's treason made the king's. Skelton, there are a many other things, That ask long time to tell them lineally; But ten times longer will the action be.

SKEL. Sir John, i' faith, I know not what to do, And I confess that all you say is true. Will you do one thing for me? Crave the king To see two parts: say, 'tis a pretty thing. I know you can do much; if you excuse me, While Skelton lives, Sir John, be bold to use me.

SIR JOHN. I will persuade the king; but how can you Persuade all these beholders to content?

SKEL. Stay, Sir John Eltham: what to them I say, Deliver to the king from me, I pray. Well-judging hearers, for a while suspend Your censures of this play's unfinish'd end, And Skelton promises for this offence The second part shall presently be penn'd. There shall you see, as late my friend did note, King Richard's revels at Earl Robert's bower; The purpos'd mirth and the performed moan; The death of Robin and his murderers. For interest of your stay, this will I add: King Richard's voyage back to Austria, The swift-returned tidings of his death, The manner of his royal funeral.[246] Then John shall be a lawful crowned king, But to Matilda bear unlawful love. Aged Fitzwater's final banishment; His piteous end, of power tears to move From marble pillars. The catastrophe Shall show you fair Matilda's tragedy, Who (shunning John's pursuit) became a nun, At Dunmow[247] Abbey, where she constantly Chose death to save her spotless chastity. Take but my word, and if I fail in this, Then let my pains be baffled with a hiss.

FINIS.

_EDITION_.

_The Death of Robert Earle of Huntington. Otherwise called Robin Hood of merrie Sherwodde: with the lamentable Tragedie of chaste Matilda, his faire maid Marian, poysoned at Dunmowe by King Iohn. Acted by the Right Honourable the Earle of Notingham, Lord high Admirall of England, his seruants. Imprinted at London, for William Leake_ 1601. 4to. B.L.

INTRODUCTION.

Henry Chettle, who certainly joined Anthony Munday in writing "The Death of Robert Earl of Huntington,"[248] if he did not also assist in penning "The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington," was a very prolific dramatic author. Malone erroneously states that he was the writer of, or was concerned in, thirty plays; according to information which he himself furnishes, forty-two are, either wholly or in part, to be assigned to Chettle. The titles of only twenty-five are inserted in the "Biographia Dramatica." The proof of his connection with the historical play now reprinted has been already supplied,[249] and it is derived from the same source as nearly all the rest of the intelligence regarding his works--the MSS. of Henslowe.

Of the incidents of the life of Henry Chettle absolutely nothing is known: we are ignorant of the times and places of his birth and death, and of the manner in which he obtained his education. It has been conjectured that he either was, or had been, a printer, but the point is very doubtful.[250] In a tract by him, called "England's Mourning Garment," on the death of Queen Elizabeth, he speaks of himself as having been "young almost thirty years ago," and as having been a witness of what passed at that period in the Court. If Ritson's conjecture [had been] well-founded, he [might have been admitted as] an author as early as 1578;[251] but the poetical tract assigned to him [under that date was the work of some other writer with the same initials, whose name is not known.]

The first account we have of Chettle in connection with the stage is under date of April 1599,[252] when, according to Henslowe, he was engaged with Dekker in writing a play called "Troilus and Cressida;" but there is good reason to infer, that if in 1603 he were "young almost thirty years ago," he had written for the theatre before 1599. Besides, in his "Kind Hartes Dreame," produced about three months after the death of his friend Robert Greene, on September 3d, 1592, he speaks generally of his connection with the dramatic poets of that day, as if it were not newly formed. Malone supposed that Shakespeare, with whom Chettle had then recently become acquainted, was alluded to in the same tract. In "England's Mourning Garment" Chettle addresses a stanza to "silver-tongued Melicert," [whom some critics have supposed to be Shakespeare. But this is mere conjecture.]

Francis Meres, in his often-quoted "Palladis Tamia" (1598), includes Chettle in a long list of other writers for the stage, as "one of the best for comedy;" but in earlier works upon the poetry and literature of England, such as Webbe's "Discourse" in 1586, and Puttenham's "Art of English Poesie" in 1589, he is not mentioned.

Henslowe's list of plays, with the authors' names attached, as [edited by Mr Collier], begins [in February 1591-2;] and there the first mention of Chettle is in February 1597-8: between that date and March 1602-3, a period of little more than five years, he wrote, or assisted in writing, all the dramatic performances with which his name is associated; a fact of itself sufficient to show, if Henslowe be accurate, that in many of them his share must have been very inconsiderable, perhaps only amounting to a few alterations. They are the following, exclusive of those pieces already enumerated,[253] in which he was concerned with Munday:--

1. The Valiant Welchman, by Michael Drayton and Henry Chettle, February 1597-8. Printed in 1615.[254]

2. Earl Goodwin and his Three Sons, Part I., by Michael Drayton, Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, and Robert Wilson, March 1598. Not printed.

3. Earl Goodwin, Part II., by the same authors, and under the same date in Henslowe's papers. Not printed.

4. Piers of Exton, by the same authors, same date. Not printed.

5. Black Batman of the North, Part I., by Henry Chettle, April 1598. Not printed.

6. Black Batman of the North, Part II., by Henry Chettle and Robert Wilson. Same date. Not printed.

7. The Play of a Woman, by Henry Chettle, July 1598. Not printed.[255]

8. The Conquest of Brute with the first finding of the Bath, by John Day, Henry Chettle, and John Singer. Same date. Not printed.

9. Hot Anger soon Cold, by Henry Porter, Henry Chettle, and Ben Jonson, August 1598. Not printed.

10. Catiline's Conspiracy, by Robert Wilson and Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.

11. 'Tis no Deceit to Deceive the Deceiver, by Henry Chettle, September 1598. Not printed.

12. Aeneas' Revenge, with the Tragedy of Polyphemus, by Henry Chettle, February 1598-9. Not printed.

13. Agamemnon, by Henry Chettle and Thomas Dekker, June 1599. Not printed. Malone thought that this was the same play as "Troilus and Cressida" before mentioned.

14. The Stepmother's Tragedy, by Henry Chettle, August 1599. Not printed.

15. Patient Grissel, by Thomas Dekker, Henry Chettle, and William Haughton, December 1599. Printed in 1603.

16. The Arcadian Virgin, by Henry Chettle and William Haughton. Same date. Not printed.

17. Damon and Pithias, by Henry Chettle, January 1599-1600. Not printed.[256]

18. The Seven Wise Masters, by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, William Haughton, and John Day, March 1599-1600. Not printed.

19. The Golden Ass and Cupid and Psyche, by Thomas Dekker, John Day, and Henry Chettle, April 1600. Not printed.

20. The Wooing of Death, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.

21. The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, by Henry Chettle and John Day. Same date. Printed in 1659.

22. All is not Gold that Glisters, by Samuel Rowley and Henry Chettle, March 1600. Not printed.

23. Sebastian, King of Portugal, by Henry Chettle and Thomas Dekker, April 1601. Not printed.

24. Cardinal Wolsey, Part I., by Henry Chettle, August 1601. Not printed.

25. Cardinal Wolsey, Part II., by Henry Chettle, May 1602. Not printed.

26. The Orphan's Tragedy, by Henry Chettle, September 1601. Not printed.

27. Too Good to be True, by Henry Chettle, Richard Hathwaye, and Wentworth Smith, November 1601. Not printed.

28. Love Parts Friendship, by Henry Chettle and Wentworth Smith, May 1602. Not printed.

29. Tobyas, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.

30. Jeptha, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.

31. A Danish Tragedy, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.

32. Femelanco, by Henry Chettle and ---- Robinson, September 1602. Not printed.

33. Lady Jane, Part I., by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Haywood, Wentworth Smith, and John Webster, November 1602. Not printed.

34. Lady Jane, Part II., by the same authors, Smith excepted. Same date. Not printed.

35. The London Florentine, Part I., by Thomas Heywood and Henry Chettle, December 1602. Not printed.

36. The London Florentine, Part II., by the same authors. Same date. Not printed.

37. The Tragedy of Hoffman, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Printed in 1631.

38. Jane Shore, by Henry Chettle and John Day, March 1602-3. Not printed.

Among the scattered notices in Henslowe's papers is an entry, dated September 3d, 1599, of 40s. advanced to Chettle, Jonson, Dekker, "and other gentlemen," on account of a tragedy they were engaged upon called "Robert the Second, King of Scots."

The interest of the "second part" of "Robert Earl of Huntington," on the whole, is stronger than that of the first part, and some powerful, though not always tasteful, writing gives effect to the situations. The death of Robin Hood takes place as early as the end of the first act, and attention is afterwards directed to the two, otherwise unconnected, plots of the fate of Lady Bruce and her little son, and of the love of King John for Matilda. Robert Davenport's Tragedy of "King John and Matilda," printed in 1655, goes precisely over the same ground, and with many decided marks of imitation, especially in the conduct of the story. Davenport's production is inferior in most respects to the earlier work of Chettle and Munday.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.[257]

KING RICHARD THE FIRST. PRINCE JOHN, _afterwards King_. ROBERT, _Earl of Huntington_. LITTLE JOHN. SCATHLOCK. SCARLET. FRIAR TUCK. MUCH, _the Clown_. BISHOP OF ELY. CHESTER. SALISBURY. LEICESTER. RICHMOND. FITZWATER. YOUNG FITZWATER. WINCHESTER. BRUCE. YOUNG BRUCE. BOY, _son of Lady Bruce_. OXFORD. HUBERT. MOWBRAY. BONVILLE. PRIOR OF YORK. JUSTICE WARMAN. SIR DONCASTER. MONK OF BURY. WILL BRAND. _Maskers, Messengers, Soldiers, &c_. QUEEN MOTHER. QUEEN. MATILDA. LADY BRUCE. ABBESS OF DUNMOW.

THE DEATH OF ROBERT EARL OF HUNTINGTON.