Chapter 7

_Enter_ SCATHLOCK _and_ SCARLET, _winding their horns, at several doors. To them enter_ ROBIN HOOD, MATILDA, _all in green_, SCATHLOCK'S MOTHER, MUCH, LITTLE JOHN: _all the men with bows and arrows_.

ROB. H. Widow, I wish thee homeward now to wend, Lest Warman's malice work thee any wrong.

WID. Master, I will; and mickle good attend On thee, thy love, and all these yeomen strong.

MAT. Forget not, widow, what you promis'd me.

MUCH. O, ay, mistress; for God's sake let's have Jenny.

WID. You shall have Jenny sent you with all speed. Sons, farewell, and, by your mother's reed, Love well your master: blessing ever fall On him, your mistress, and these yeomen tall. [_Exit_.

MUCH. God be with you, mother: have much mind, I pray, on Much your son, and your daughter Jenny.

ROB. H. Wind once more, jolly huntsmen, all your horns; Whose shrill sound, with the echoing wood's assist, Shall ring a sad knell for the fearful deer, Before our feathered shafts, death's winged darts, Bring sudden summons for their fatal ends.

SCAR. It's full seven years since we were outlaw'd first, And wealthy Sherwood was our heritage: For all those years we reigned uncontroll'd, From Barnsdale shrogs to Nottingham's red cliffs; At Blithe and Tickhill were we welcome guests. Good George-a-Greene at Bradford was our friend, And wanton Wakefield's Pinner[200] lov'd us well. At Barnsley dwells a potter tough and strong, That never brook'd we brethren should have wrong. The nuns of Farnsfield (pretty nuns they be) Gave napkins, shirts, and bands to him and me. Bateman of Kendal gave us Kendal green, And Sharpe of Leeds sharp arrows for us made: At Rotheram dwelt our bowyer, God him bless; Jackson he hight, his bows did never miss. This for our good--our scathe let Scathlock tell, In merry Mansfield how it once befell.

SCATH. In merry Mansfield, on a wrestling day, Prizes there were, and yeomen came to play; My brother Scarlet and myself were twain. Many resisted, but it was in vain, For of them all we won the mastery, And the gilt wreaths were given to him and me. There by Sir Doncaster of Hothersfield We were bewray'd, beset, and forc'd to yield, And so borne bound from thence to Nottingham, Where we lay doom'd to death till Warman came.

ROB. H. Of that enough. What cheer, my dearest love?

MUCH. O, good cheer anon, sir; she shall have venison her bellyful.

MAT. Matilda is as joyful of thy good As joy can make her: how fares Robin Hood?

ROB. H. Well, my Matilda, and if thou agree, Nothing but mirth shall wait on thee and me.

MAT. O God, how full of perfect mirth were I To see thy grief turn'd to true jollity!

ROB. H. Give me thy hand; now God's curse on me light, If I forsake not grief, in griefs despite. Much, make a cry, and, yeomen, stand ye round: I charge ye never more let woful sound Be heard among ye; but whatever fall, Laugh grief to scorn, and so make sorrow small, Much, make a cry, and loudly: Little John.

MUCH. O God, O God! help, help, help! I am undone, I am undone!

LIT. JOHN. Why, how now, Much? Peace, peace, you roaring slave.

MUCH. My master bad me cry, and I will cry till he bid me leave. Help, help, help! Ay, marry will I.

ROB. H. Peace, Much. Read on the articles, good John.

LIT. JOHN. First, no man must presume to call our master By name of Earl, Lord, Baron, Knight, or Squire; But simply by the name of Robin Hood.

ROB. H. Say, yeomen, to this order will ye yield?

ALL. We yield to serve our master, Robin Hood.

LIT. JOHN. Next, 'tis agreed, if thereto she agree, That fair Matilda henceforth change her name, And while it is the chance of Robin Hood To live in Sherwood a poor outlaw's life, She by Maid Marian's name be only call'd.

MAT. I am contented; read on, Little John: Henceforth let me be nam'd Maid Marian.

LIT. JOHN. Thirdly, no yeoman, following Robin Hood In Sherwood, shall [ab]use widow, wife, or maid; But by true labour lustful thoughts expel.

ROB. H. How like ye this?

ALL. Master, we like it well.

MUCH. But I cry no to it. What shall I do with Jenny then?

SCAR. Peace, Much: go forward with the orders, fellow John.

LIT. JOHN. Fourthly, no passenger with whom ye meet Shall ye let pass, till he with Robin feast; Except a post, a carrier, or such folk As use with food to serve the market towns.

ALL. An order which we gladly will observe.

LIT. JOHN. Fifthly, you never shall the poor man wrong, Nor spare a priest, a usurer, or a clerk.

MUCH. Nor a fair wench, meet we her in the dark!

LIT. JOHN. Lastly, you shall defend with all your power Maids, widows, orphans, and distressed men.

ALL. All these we vow to keep as we are men.

ROB. H. Then wend ye to the greenwood merrily, And let the light roes bootless from ye run. Marian and I, as sovereigns of your toils, Will wait within our bower your bent bows' spoils.

MUCH. I will among them, master.

[_Exeunt winding their horns_.

ROB. H. Marian, thou seest, though courtly pleasures want, Yet country sport in Sherwood is not scant: For the soul-ravishing, delicious sound Of instrumental music we have found The winged quiristers with divers notes Sent from their quaint recording[201] pretty throats, On every branch that compasseth our bow'r, Without command contenting us each hour. For arras hangings and rich tapestry We have sweet nature's best embroidery. For thy steel glass, wherein thou wont'st to look, Thy crystal eyes gaze in a crystal brook. At court a flower or two did deck thy head, Now with whole garlands is it circled. For what in wealth we want, we have in flowers, And what we lose in halls, we find in bowers.

MAR. Marian hath all, sweet Robert, having thee, And guesses thee as rich in having me.

ROB. H. I am indeed; For, having thee, what comfort can I need?

MAR. Go in, go in. To part such true love, Robin, it were sin.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ PRIOR, SIR DONCASTER, FRIAR TUCK.

PRIOR. To take his body, by the blessed rood, 'Twould do me more than any other good.

DON. O, 'tis an unthrift, still the churchmen's foe; An ill-end will betide him, that I know. 'Twas he that urged the king to 'sess the clergy, When to the holy land he took his journey; And he it is that rescued those two thieves, Scarlet and Scathlock, that so many griefs To churchmen did: and now, they say, He keeps in Sherwood, and himself doth play The lawless reaver:[202] hear you, my Lord Prior, He must be taken, or it will be wrong.

TUCK. Ay, ay, soon said; But ere he be, many will lie dead, Except it be by sleight.

DON. Ay, there, there, Friar.

TUCK. Give me, my lord, your execution. The widow Scarlet's daughter, lovely Jenny, Loves, and is belov'd of Much, the miller's son. If I can get the girl to go with me, Disguis'd in habit like a pedlar's mort,[203] I'll serve this execution, on my life, And single out a time alone to take Robin, that often careless walks alone. Why, answer not; remember what I said: Yonder, I see, comes Jenny, that fair maid. If we agree, then back me soon with aid.

_Enter_ JENNY _with a fardel_.

PRIOR. Tuck, if thou do it--

DON. Pray, you do not talk: As we were strangers let us careless walk.

JEN. Now to the green wood wend I, God me speed.

TUCK. Amen, fair maid, and send thee, in thy need, Much, that is born to do thee much good deed.

JEN. Are you there, Friar? nay then, i'faith, we have it.

TUCK. What, wench? my love?

JEN. Ay, gi't me when I crave it.

TUCK. Unask'd I offer; prythee, sweet girl, take it.

JEN. Gifts stink with proffer: foh! Friar, I forsake it.

TUCK. I will be kind.

JEN. Will not your kindness kill her?

TUCK. With love?

JEN. You cog.

TUCK. Tut, girl, I am no miller: Hear in your ear.

DON. The Friar courts her. [_Standing behind_.

PRIOR. Tush, let them alone; He is our Lady's Chaplain, but serves Joan.

DON. Then, from the Friar's fault, perchance, it may be The proverb grew, Joan's taken for my lady.

PRIOR. Peace, good Sir Doncaster, list to the end.

JEN. But mean ye faith and troth? shall I go wi' ye?

TUCK. Upon my faith, I do intend good faith.

JEN. And shall I have the pins and laces too, If I bear a pedlar's pack with you?

TUCK. As I am holy Friar, Jenny, thou shalt.

JEN. Well, there's my hand; see, Friar, you do not halt.

TUCK. Go but before into the miry mead, And keep the path that doth to Farnsfield lead; I'll into Southwell and buy all the knacks, That shall fit both of us for pedlar's packs.

JEN. Who be they two that yonder walk, I pray?

TUCK. Jenny, I know not: be they what they may, Scare not for them; prythee, do not stay, But make some speed, that we were gone away.

JEN. Well, Friar, I trust you that we go to Sherwood.

TUCK. Ay, by my beads, and unto Robin Hood.

JEN. Make speed, good Friar.

TUCK. Jenny, do not fear. [_Exit_ JENNY. Lord Prior, now you hear, As much as I. Get me two pedlar's packs, Points, laces, looking-glasses, pins and knacks; And let Sir Doncaster with some wight lads Follow us close; and, ere these forty hours, Upon my life Earl Robert shall be ours.

PRIOR. Thou shalt have anything, my dearest Friar; And in amends I'll make thee my sub-prior. Come, good Sir Doncaster, and if we thrive, We'll frolic with the nuns of Leeds, belive.[204]

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ FITZWATER, _like an old man_.

FITZ. Well did he write, and mickle did he know, That said this world's felicity was woe, Which greater states can hardly undergo. Whilom Fitzwater, in fair England's court, Possess'd felicity and happy state, And in his hall blithe fortune kept her sport, Which glee one hour of woe did ruinate. Fitzwater once had castles, towns, and towers, Fair gardens, orchards, and delightful bowers; But now nor garden, orchard, town, nor tower, Hath poor Fitzwater left within his power. Only wide walks are left me in the world, Which these stiff limbs will hardly let me tread; And when I sleep, heaven's glorious canopy Me and my mossy couch doth overspread. Of this injurious John cannot bereave me; The air and earth he (while I live) must leave me; But from the English air and earth, poor man, His tyranny hath ruthless thee exiled. Yet e'er I leave it, I'll do what I can To see Matilda, my fair luckless child.

[_Curtains open_:--ROBIN HOOD _sleeps on a green bank, and_ MARIAN _strewing flowers on him_.

And in good time, see where my comfort stands, And by her lies dejected Huntington. Look how my flow'r holds flowers in her hands, And flings those sweets upon my sleeping son. I'll close mine eyes as if I wanted sight, That I may see the end of their delight. [_Goes knocking with his staff_.

MAR. What aged man art thou? or by what chance Cam'st thou thus far into the wayless wood?

FITZ. Widow or wife, or maiden if thou be, Lend me thy hand; thou seest I cannot see: Blessing betide thee, little feel'st thou want; With me, good child, food is both hard and scant. These smooth even veins assure me he is kind, Whate'er he be, my girl, that thee doth find. I, poor and old, am reft of all earth's good, And desperately am crept into this wood To seek the poor man's patron, Robin Hood.

MAR. And thou art welcome: welcome, aged man, Ay, ten times welcome to Maid Marian. Sit down, old father, sit, and call me daughter. O God, how like he looks to old Fitzwater! [_Runs in_.

FITZ. Is my Matilda call'd Maid Marian? I wonder why her name is changed thus.

[MARIAN _brings wine, meat_.

MAR. Here's wine to cheer thy heart; drink, aged man: There's ven'son and a knife, here's manchet[205] fine: Drink, good old man, I pray you, drink more wine. My Robin stirs; I must sing him asleep.

ROB. H. Nay, you have wak'd me, Marian, with your talk. What man is that's come within our walk?

MAR. An aged man, a silly, sightless man, Near pin'd with hunger: see, how fast he eats.

ROB. H. Much good may't do him: never is good meat Ill-spent on such a stomach. Father, proface;[206] To Robin Hood thou art a welcome man.

FITZ. I thank you, master. Are you Robin Hood?

ROB. H. Father, I am.

FITZ. God give your soul much good For this good meat Maid Marian hath given me. But hear me, master; can you tell me news, Where fair Matilda is, Fitzwater's daughter?

ROB. H. Why, here she is; this Marian is she.

FITZ. Why did she change her name?

ROB. H. What's that to thee?

FITZ. Yes, I could weep for grief that it is so, But that my tears are all dried up with woe.

ROB. H. Why, she is called Maid Marian, honest friend, Because she lives a spotless maiden life; And shall, till Robin's outlaw life have end, That he may lawfully take her to wife; Which, if King Richard come, will not be long, For in his hand is power to right our wrong.

FITZ. If it be thus, I joy in her name's change: So pure love in these times is very strange.

MAR. Robin, I think it is my aged father. [_Aside_.

ROB. H. Tell me, old man, tell me in courtesy, Are you no other than you seem to be?

FITZ. I am a wretched aged man, you see, If you will do me aught for charity: Further than this, sweet, do not question me.

ROB. H. You shall have your desire. But what be these?

_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK _and_ JENNY_, like pedlars, singing.

What lack ye? what lack ye? What is it you will buy? Any points, pins or laces, Any laces, points or pins? Fine gloves, fine glasses, Any busks or masks? Or any other pretty things? Come, cheap for love, or buy for money. Any coney, coney-skins? For laces, points or pins? Fair maids, come choose or buy. I have pretty poking-sticks,[207] And many other tricks, Come, choose for love, or buy for money_.

ROB. H. Pedlar, I prythee set thy pack down here: Marian shall buy, if thou be not too dear.

TUCK. Jenny, unto thy mistress show thy pack. Master, for you I have a pretty knack, From far I brought, please you see to the same.

[_Exeunt_ ROBIN HOOD, MARIAN, _and_ FITZWATER.

_Enter_ SIR DONCASTER _and others, weaponed_.[208]

FRIAR. Sir Doncaster, are not we pedlar-like?

DON. Yes, passing fit; and yonder is the bower. I doubt not we shall have him in our power.

FRIAR. You and your company were best stand close.

DON. What shall the watchword be to bring us forth?

FRIAR. Take it, I pray, though it be much more worth: When I speak that aloud, be sure I serve The execution presently on him.

DON. Friar, look to't.

FRIAR. Now, Jenny, to your song. [_Sings_.

_Enter_ MARIAN, ROBIN.

MAR. Pedlar, what pretty toys have you to sell?

FRIAR. Jenny, unto your mistress show your ware.

MAR. Come in, good woman. [_Exeunt_.

FRIAR. Master, look here, And God give ear, So mote I the[209], To her and me, If ever we, Robin, to thee, That art so free. Mean treachery.

ROB. H. On, pedlar, to thy pack; If thou love me, my love thou shalt not lack.

FRIAR. Master, in brief, There is a thief, That seeks your grief. God send relief To you in need. For a foul deed, If not with speed You take good heed, There is decreed. In yonder brake There lies a snake, That means to take Out of this wood The yeoman good, Call'd Robin Hood.

ROB. H. Pedlar, I prythee be more plain. What brake? what snake? what trap? what train?

FRIAR. Robin, I am a holy friar, Sent by the Prior, Who did me hire, For to conspire Thy endless woe And overthrow: But thou shalt know, I am the man Whom Little John From Nottingham Desir'd to be A clerk to thee; For he to me Said thou wert free, And I did see Thy honesty, From gallow-tree When thou didst free Scathlock and Scarlet certainly[210].

ROB. H. Why, then, it seems that thou art Friar Tuck.

FRIAR. Master, I am.

ROB. H. I pray thee, Friar, say, What treachery is meant to me this day?

FRIAR. First wind your horn; then draw your sword. [_ROBIN HOOD winds his horn_. For I have given a friar's word, To take your body prisoner, And yield you to Sir Doncaster, The envious priest of Hothersfield, Whose power your bushy wood doth shield; But I will die ere you shall yield.

_Enter_ LITTLE JOHN, &c.

And sith your yeomen do appear, I'll give the watchword without fear. Take it, I pray thee, though it be more worth.

_Rush in_ SIR DONCASTER _with his crew_.

DON. Smite down! lay hold on outlaw'd Huntington!

LIT. JOHN. Soft, hot-spurr'd priest, 'tis not so quickly done.

DON. Now, out alas! the friar and the maid Have to false thieves Sir Doncaster betray'd.

[_Exeunt omnes_.[211]