Chapter 5

_Enter_ ROBIN HOOD _and_ MATILDA _at one door_; LITTLE JOHN _and_ MUCH _the Miller's son at another door_.

MUCH. Luck, I beseech thee, marry and amen! Blessing betide them! (it be them indeed) Ah, for my good lord and my little lady![185]

ROB. H. What, Much and John! well-met in this ill time.

LIT. JOHN. In this good time, my lord, for, being met, The world shall not depart us till we die.[186]

MAT. Say'st thou me so, John? as I am true maid, If I live long, well shall thy love be paid.

MUCH. Well, there be on us, simple though we stand here, have as much love in them as Little John.

MAT. Much, I confess thou lov'st me very much, And I will more reward it than with words.

MUCH. Nay, I know that; but we miller's children love the cog a little, and the fair speaking.

ROB. H. And is it possible that Warman's spite Should stretch so far, that he doth hunt the lives Of bonny Scarlet and his brother Scathlock.

MUCH. O, ay, sir: Warman came but yesterday to take charge of the jail at Nottingham, and this day he says he will hang the two outlaws. He means to set them at liberty!

MAT. Such liberty God send the peevish wretch, In his most need.

ROB. H. Now, by my honour's hope, Yet buried in the low dust of disgrace, He is to blame. Say, John, where must they die?

LIT. JOHN. Yonder's their mother's house, and here the tree Whereon, poor men, they must forego their lives: And yonder comes a lazy losel friar, That is appointed for their confessor; Who, when we brought your money to their mothers, Was wishing her to patience for their deaths.

_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK _and_ RALPH, _Warman's man_.

RAL. I am timorous, sir, that the prigioners are passed from the jail.

FRIAR. Soft, sirrah! by my order I protest Ye are too forward: 'tis no game, no jest, We go about.

ROB. H. Matilda, walk afore To Widow Scarlet's house; look, where it stands. Much, man your lady: Little John and I Will come unto you thither presently.

MUCH. Come, madam; my lord has 'pointed the properer man to go before ye.

MAT. Be careful, Robin, in this time of fear.

[_Exeunt_ MUCH, MATILDA.

FRIAR. Now, by the relics of the holy mass, A pretty girl, a very bonny lass.

ROB. H. Friar, how like you her?

FRIAR. Marry, by my hood, I like her well, and wish her nought but good.

RAL. Ye protract, Master Friar. I obsecrate ye with all courtesy, omitting compliment, you would vouch or deign to proceed.

FRIAR, Deign, vouch, protract, compliment, obsecrate? Why, goodman Tricks, who taught you thus to prate? Your name, your name? Were you never christen'd?

RAL. My nomination Radulph is, or Ralph: Vulgars corruptly use to call me Rafe.

FRIAR. O foul corruption of base palliardize,[187] When idiots, witless, travail to be wise. Age barbarous, times impious, men vicious!

Able to upraise, Men dead many days, That wonted to praise The rhymes and the lays Of poets laureate: Whose verse did decorate, And their lines 'lustrate Both prince and potentate. These from their graves See asses and knaves, Base idiot slaves, With boastings and braves Offer to upfly To the heavens high, With vain foolery And rude ribaldry. Some of them write Of beastly delight, Suffering their lines To flatter these times With pandarism base, And lust do uncase From the placket to the pap: God send them ill-hap! Some like quaint pedants, Good wit's true recreants, Ye cannot beseech From pure Priscian speech. Divers as nice, Like this odd vice, Are word-makers daily. Others in courtesy, Whenever they meet ye, With new fashions greet ye: Changing each congee, Sometime beneath knee, With, "Good sir, pardon me," And much more foolery, Paltry and foppery, Dissembling knavery: Hands sometime kissing, But honesty missing. God give no blessing To such base counterfeiting.

LIT. JOHN. Stop, Master Skelton! whither will you run?

FRIAR. God's pity! Sir John Eltham, Little John, I had forgot myself. But to our play. Come, goodman Fashions, let us go our way, Unto this hanging business. Would, for me, Some rescue or reprieve might set them free.

[_Exeunt_ FRIAR, RALPH.

ROB. H. Heard'st thou not, Little John, the friar's speech, Wishing for rescue or a quick reprieve?

LIT. JOHN. He seems like a good fellow, my good lord.

ROB. H. He's a good fellow, John, upon my word. Lend me thy horn, and get thee in to Much, And when I blow this horn, come both, and help me.

LIT. JOHN. Take heed, my lord: that villain Warman knows you, And ten to one he hath a writ against you.

ROB. H. Fear not. Below the bridge a poor blind man doth dwell, With him I will change my habit, and disguise: Only be ready when I call for ye; For I will save their lives, if it may be.

LIT. JOHN. I will do what you would immediately.

_Enter_ WARMAN, SCARLET, _and_ SCATHLOCK, _bound_; FRIAR TUCK _as their confessor; officers with halberts_.

WAR. Master Friar, be brief; delay no time. Scarlet and Scathlock, never hope for life: Here is the place of execution, And you must answer law for what is done.

SCAR. Well, if there be no remedy, we must: Though it ill-seemeth, Warman, thou should'st be So bloody to pursue our lives thus cruelly.

SCATH. Our mother sav'd thee fro the gallows, Warman: His father did prefer thee to thy lord. One mother had we both, and both our fathers To thee and to thy father were kind friends.

FRIAR. Good fellows, here you see his kindness ends: What he was once he doth not now consider. You must consider of your many sins: This day in death your happiness begins.

SCAR. If you account it happiness, good Friar, To bear us company I you desire: The more the merrier; we are honest men.

WAR. Ye were first outlaws, then ye proved thieves, And now all carelessly ye scoff at death. Both of your fathers were good, honest men; Your mother lives, their widow, in good fame; But you are scapethrifts, unthrifts, villains, knaves, And as ye lived by shifts, shall die with shame.

SCATH. Warman, good words, for all your bitter deeds: Ill-speech to wretched men is more than needs.

_Enter_ RALPH, _running_.

RAL. Sir, retire ye, for it hath thus succeeded: the carnifex or executor, riding on an ill-curtal, hath titubated or stumbled, and is now cripplified, with broken or fractured tibiards, and, sending you tidings of success, saith yourself must be his deputy.

WAR. Ill-luck! but, sirrah, you shall serve the turn: The cords that bind them you shall hang them in.

RAL. How are you, sir, of me opinionated? not to possess your seneschalship or shrievalty, not to be Earl of Nottingham, will Ralph be nominated by the base, scandalous vociferation of a hangman!

_Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, _like an old man_.

ROB. H. Where is the Shrieve, kind friends, I you beseech? With his good worship let me have some speech.

FRIAR. There is the Sheriff, father: this is he.

ROB. H. Friar, good alms and many blessings! thank thee. Sir, you are welcome to this troublous shire: Of this day's execution did I hear. Scarlet and Scathlock murder'd my young son: Me have they robb'd and helplessly undone. Revenge I would, but I am old and dry: Wherefore, sweet master, for saint Charity, Since they are bound, deliver them to me, That for my son's blood I reveng'd may be.

SCAR. This old man lies: we ne'er did him such wrong.

ROB. H. I do not lie: you wot it too-too well. The deed was such as you may shame to tell; But I with all entreats might not prevail With your stern, stubborn minds, bent all to blood. Shall I have such revenge then, Master Sheriff, That with my son's loss may suffice myself? [ROBIN _whispers with them_.

WAR. Do, father, what thou wilt, for they must die.

FRIAR. I never heard them touch'd with blood till now.

WAR. Notorious villains! and they made their brags, The Earl of Huntington would save their lives: But he is down the wind, as all such shall, That revel, waste and spend, and take no care.

ROB. H. My horn once winded, I'll unbind my belt, Whereat the swords and bucklers are fast-tied. [_To_ SCARLET _and_ SCATHLOCK.

SCATH. Thanks to your honour. [_Aside_.] Father, we confess, And were our arms unbound, we would upheave Our sinful hands with sorrowing hearts to heaven.

ROB. H. I will unbind you, with the sheriff's leave.

WAR. Do: help him, Ralph: go to them, Master Friar.

ROB. H. And as ye blew your horns at my son's death, So will I sound your knell with my best breath: [_Sounds his horn_. And here's a blade, that hangeth at my belt, Shall make ye feel in death what my son felt.

_Enter_ LITTLE JOHN _and_ MUCH.[188] _Fight: the_ FRIAR, _making as if he helped the_ SHERIFF, _knocks down his men, crying, Keep the king's peace_!

RAL. O, they must be hanged, father.

ROB. H. Thy master and thyself supply their rooms. Warman, approach me not! tempt not my wrath, For if thou do, thou diest remediless.

WAR. It is the outlaw'd Earl of Huntington! Down with him, Friar! O, thou dost mistake![189] Fly, Ralph, we die else! let us raise the shire.

[SHERIFF _runs away, and his men_.

FRIAR. Farewell. Earl Robert, as I am true friar, I had rather be thy clerk than serve the Prior.

ROB. H. A jolly fellow. Scarlet, know'st thou him?

SCAR. He is of York, and of St Mary's cloister, There where your greedy uncle is Lord Prior.

MUCH. O, murrain on ye! have you two 'scap'd hanging?[190] Hark ye, my lord: these two fellows kept at Barnsdale Seven year to my knowledge, and no man[191]--

ROB. H. Here is no biding, masters: get ye in, Take a short blessing at your mother's hands. Much, bear them company; make Matilda merry: John and myself will follow presently. John, on a sudden thus I am resolv'd-- To keep in Sherwood till the king's return, And being outlaw'd, lead an outlaw's life. (Seven years these brethren, being yeomen's sons, Lived and 'scap'd the malice of their foes.)[192] How think'st thou, Little John, of my intent?

LIT. JOHN. I like your honour's purpose exceeding well.

ROB. H. Nay, no more honour, I pray thee, Little John; Henceforth I will be called Robin Hood. Matilda shall be my maid Marian. Come, John, friends all, for now begins the game; And after our deserts so grow our fame!

[_Exeunt.