A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 13

QU. ELIN. How now, my Lord of Huntington?

The mistress of your love, fair Marian, Tells us your sudden rising from the banquet Was but a humour which you mean to purge In some high tragic lines or comic jests.

ROB. H. Sit down, fair queen (the prologue's part is play'd; Marian hath told ye, what I bad her tell): Sit down, Lord Sentloe, cousin Lacy, sit: Sir Gilbert Broughton, yea, and Warman, sit: Though you my steward be, yet for your gathering wit I give you place: sit down, sit down, I say: G.o.d's pity! sit: it must, it must be so, For you will sit when I shall stand, I know. [_Sits them all down_.

And, Marian, you may sit among the rest, I pray ye do, or else rise, stand apart: These helps shall be beholders of my smart-- You that with ruthless eyes my sorrows see, And came prepar'd to feast at my sad fall, Whose envy, greediness, and jealousy Afford me sorrow endless, comfort small, Know what you knew before, what you ordain'd To cross the spousal banquet of my love, That I am outlaw'd by the Prior of York, My traitorous uncle and your toothless friend.

Smile you, Queen Elinor? laugh'st thou, Lord Sentloe?

Lacy, look'st thou so blithe at my lament?

Broughton, a smooth brow graceth your stern face; And you are merry, Warman, at my moan.

The Queen except, I do you all defy!

You are a sort[171] of fawning sycophants, That, while the sunshine of my greatness 'dur'd, Revelled out all my day for your delights; And now ye see the black night of my woe O'ershade the beauty of my smiling good, You to my grief add grief; and are agreed With that false Prior to reprieve my joys From execution of all happiness.

WAR. Your honour thinks not ill of me, I hope.

ROB. H. Judas speaks first, with "Master, is it I?"

No, my false steward; your accounts are true; You have dishonour'd me, I worshipp'd[172] you.

You from a paltry pen-and-inkhorn clerk, Bearing a buckram-satchel at your belt, Unto a justice' place I did prefer; Where you unjustly have my tenants rack'd, Wasted my treasure, and increas'd your store.

Your sire contented with a cottage poor, Your mastership hath halls and mansions built; Yet are you innocent, as clear from guilt As is the ravenous mastiff that hath spilt The blood of a whole flock, yet slyly comes And couches in his kennel with smear'd chaps.

Out of my house! for yet my house it is, And follow him, ye catchpole-bribed grooms; For neither are ye lords nor gentlemen, That will be hired to wrong a n.o.bleman: For hired ye were last night, I know it, I, To be my guests, my faithless guests this day, That your kind host you trothless might betray.

But hence, and help the Sheriff at the door, Your worst attempt. Fell traitors, as you be, Avoid, or I will execute ye all Ere any execution come at me! [_They run away_.

They run[173] away, so ends the tragedy.

(_Aside_) Marian, by Little John, my mind you know: If you will, do; if not, why be it so.

[_Offers to go in_.

QU. ELIN. No words to me, Earl Robert, ere you go?

ROB. H. O, to your highness? yes; adieu, proud queen; Had not you been, thus poor I had not been.

[_Exit_.

QU. ELIN. Thou wrong'st me, Robert Earl of Huntington, And were it not for pity of this maid, I would revenge the words that thou hast said.

MAR. Add not, fair queen, distress unto distress, But, if you can, for pity make his less.

QU. ELIN. I can and will forget deserving hate, And give him comfort in this woful state.

Marian, I know Earl Robert's whole desire Is to have thee with him from hence away; And though I lov'd him dearly to this day, Yet since I see he deadlier loveth thee, Thou shalt have all the furtherance I may.

Tell me, fair girl, and see thou truly tell, Whether this night, to-morrow, or next day, There be no 'pointment for to meet thy love?

MAR. There is, this night there is, I will not lie; And, be it disappointed, I shall die.

QU. ELIN. Alas, poor soul! my son, Prince John, my son, With several troops hath circuited the court, This house, the city, that thou canst not 'scape.

MAR. I will away with Death, though he be grim, If they deny me to go hence with him.

QU. ELIN. Marian, Thou shalt go with him clad in my attire, And for a shift I'll put thy garments on.

It is not me my son John doth desire, But, Marian, it is thee he doteth on.

When thou and I are come into the field, Or any other place, where Robin stays, Me in thy clothes the ambush will beset; Thee in my robes they dare not once approach: So, while with me a-reasoning they stay, At pleasure thou with him may'st ride away.

MAR. I am beholding to your majesty, And of this plot will send my Robin word.

QU. ELIN. Nay, never trouble him, lest it breed suspect: But get thee in, and shift off thy attire: My robe is loose, and it will soon be off.

Go, gentle Marian, I will follow thee, And from betrayers' hands will set thee free.

MAR. I thank your highness, but I will not trust ye: My Robert shall have knowledge of this shift, For I conceive already your deep drift.

[_Aside. Exit_.

QU. ELIN. Now shall I have my will of Huntington Who, taking me this night for Marian, Will hurry me away instead of her; For he dares not stand trifling to confer.

Faith, pretty Marian, I shall meet with you,[174]

And with your lovely sweetheart Robert too: For when we come unto a baiting-place, If with like love my love he do not grace, Of treason capital I will accuse him, For trait'rous forcing me out of the court, And guerdon his disdain with guilty death, That of a prince's love so lightly weighs.

[_Exit_.

ACT II., SCENE I.

_Enter_ LITTLE JOHN _fighting with the_ SHERIFF _and his men_; WARMAN _persuading him_.

LIT. JOHN. Warman, stand off!

t.i.t-tattle, tell not me what ye can do: The goods, I say, are mine, and I say true.

WAR. I say the Sheriff must see them, ere they go.

LIT. JOHN. You say so, Warman: Little John says no.

SHER. I say I must, for I am the king's shrieve.

LIT. JOHN. Your must is false; your office I believe.

WATCH. Down with him! down with him!

LIT. JOHN. Ye bark at me like curs, but I will down With twenty "Stand, and who goes there?"[175] of you, If ye stand long tempting my patience.

Why, Master Sheriff, think you me a fool?

What justice is there you should search my trunks, Or stay my goods for that my master owes?

SHER. Here's Justice Warman, steward to your lord, Suspects some coin, some jewels, or some plate That 'longs unto your lord, are in your trunks, And the extent is out for all his goods; Therefore we ought to see none be convey'd.

WAR. True, Little John; I am the sorrier.

LIT. JOHN. A plague upon ye else, how sore ye weep!

Why, say, thou upstart, that there were some help, Some little, little help in this distress, To aid our lord and master comfortless, Is it thy part, thou screen-fac'd snotty-nose, To hinder him that gave thee all thou hast?

_Enter_ JUSTICE WARMAN'S [_French_] WIFE _oddly attired_.

WIFE. Who's that, husband? you, you! means he you?

WAR. I, by'r Lady is it, I thank him.

WIFE. Ah, ye knave you! G.o.d's pity, husband, why dis no your worship send the kneve to Newgate?