A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 17

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.

_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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 ma.s.s, A pretty girl, a very bonny la.s.s.

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 'l.u.s.trate Both prince and potentate.

These from their graves See a.s.ses 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 l.u.s.t do uncase From the placket to the pap: G.o.d 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.

G.o.d give no blessing To such base counterfeiting.

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

FRIAR. G.o.d'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_.