The Battle of Hexham Part 4

_A Cave, in Hexham Forest; in which ROBBERS are discovered, drinking._

OLD GLEE, AND OLD WORDS.

_When Arthur first, in court, began_ _To wear long hanging-sleeves,_ _He entertain'd three serving-men,_ _And all of them were thieves._

_The first he was an Irishman,_ _The second was a Scot,_ _The third he was a Welshman,_ _And all were knaves, I wot._

_The Irishman, he loved Usquebaugh,_ _The Scot loved ale, called blue-cap;_ _The Welshman he loved toasted cheese,_ _And made his mouth like a mouse-trap._

_Usquebaugh burnt the Irishman,_ _The Scot was drown'd in ale;_ _The Welshman had like t' have been choak'd with a mouse,_ _But he pull'd her out by the tail._

_1 Rob._ Sung like true and n.o.ble boys of plunder! Isn't this free-booting spirit, now, better than leading a cowardly life of musty regularity? Honesty is a scarce and tender commodity, that perishes almost as soon as it appears:--the rich man is not known to have it, for fortune has never put him to the test; and the poor blockhead, that boasts on't, dies for hunger in proving it.

_2 Rob._ Right; it is but a fever in the blood, that soon kills the patient if it be not expelled.--I had the fever, once.

_4 Rob._ And what was your cure for't?

_2 Rob._ Starving. Ever while you live, starve your fever:--when honesty is your case, only call in poverty as physician, and the disease soon yields to his prescriptions.

_1 Rob._ Pshaw! plague on your physic? aren't we taking our wine in the full vigour of roguery? This it is [_Holding the Bottle._] that gives courage to poor knaves to knock down rich fools, in the forest;--just as it gives rich fools spirits to sally forth, and break poor knaves'

heads, in the town. Come, as I'm Lieutenant, and our Captain is prowling, let's to business:--read over the list of our yesterday's booties.

_2 Rob._ Agreed! but, first, one more round; one health; one general health, and then we'll to't.

_1 Rob._ Here it is then--here's a short, little, snug, general health, that hits most humours; it suits your soldier, your t.i.the parson, your lawyer, your politician, just as well as your robber.

_All._ Now for it. [_All rise._

_1 Rob._ Plunder! [_Drinks._

_All._ Plunder! [_All drink._

_1 Rob._ And now for the list.

_2 Rob._ [Reads.] _Hexham Forest, May 14th, 1462. Taken, from a single lady, on a pad nag, eleven pounds, four groats, and a portmanteau.--She seemed marvellously frightened, and whispered thanks, privately, for her delivery._

_1 Rob._ No uncommon case--she isn't the first single lady who has been delivered, and whispered thanks for it in private.

2 Rob. _From a Scotch laird, on his way from London to Inverness--by Philip Thunder in gloves; the whole provision for his journey, viz. one cracked angel, and two sticks of brimstone._

_1 Rob._ Who has his horse?

_2 Rob._ No one; the Scotch laird travelled on foot. _From a pair of justices of the peace, a foundered mare, a black gelding, two doublets, and a hundred marks in gold--they were tied back to back;--_

_1 Rob._ Good! It is but right, that they who bind over so many, should at last, be bound over themselves; and a wise thief is ever bound in justice to put a foolish justice in binding.

2 Rob. _Back to back, and hoodwinked--They were left, lamenting their fate, in the forest._

_1 Rob._ Lament! O villains!--To be in the commission of the peace, and not know that Justice should always be blind. Marry, a good day! Are there any more?

_2 Rob._ Only a fat friar, who was half plundered, and saved himself by flight.

_1 Rob._ The better fortune his. Few fat friars, I fancy, have the luck to be saved. What did he yield?

2 Rob. _The rope from his middle, a bottle of sack from his bosom, and a link of hog's puddings, pulled out of his left sleeve._

_1 Rob._ Gad a mercy, friar! For the sack, and the sausages, they shall be shared, merrily, among us; and for the rope,--hum!--come, we won't think of that, now. [_A Horn wound lowly._] Hark! there's our Captain's horn!--'faith, for one who, I suspect is married, he chuses an odd signal of approach.

_2 Rob._ Nay, though he may be married, he's no milksop; and, I warrant him, when he's on duty, and robbing among us, he quite forgets his wife, as an honest man should do. He has joined us but a short time, yet, egad, he heads us n.o.bly! He'll pluck you an hundred crowns from a rich fellow's pocket, with one hand, and throw his share of them into a hungry beggar's hat, with the other. But, here he comes.

_Enter GONDIBERT._

_All._ Hail, n.o.ble Captain!

_Gondi._ How now, my bold and rugged companions! What has been done in my absence?

_1 Rob._ Oh, sir, a deal of business--We have been washing down old scores, and getting vigour for new. We have had a cup for every breach of the law we have committed. Marry, sir, ours is a rare cellar, to stand such a soaking.

_Gondi._ Now then, to a business of greater import. I have been lurking round the camp, here, on the skirts of the forest. The parties have met, and a hot battle ensued. It was a long time fought with such stubborn courage, that, as I stood observing it, the spirit of war, pent up within me, had well nigh burst my breast.--Twenty times, I was at the point of breaking from my shelter, and joining combat. But I am pledged to you, my fellows;--that thought restrained me.

_2 Rob._ O, n.o.ble Captain!--but who has conquered?

_Gondi._ Ay, there it is:--'sdeath and fury, my blood boiled to see it!

The sleek, upstart rascals, cut through the ranks as if--oh! a plague on their well feeding!--We had carried it else, all the world to nothing!

_2 Rob._ We! why what is it to us who has the day? Do but tell us who.

_Gondi._ I had forgot. The Lancasters are defeated, their soldiers routed, and many of their leaders dispersed about the country. Some, no doubt, are in the forest. Usurping war never glutted on a richer banquet.

_1 Rob._ Why, it seems to have been a pretty feast; and, the best on't is, now 'tis over, we shall come in for the picking of the bones.

_Gondi._ It may be so. You all, I know, will expect a rich booty; and they whom we shall meet will, probably, from the unsettled nature of the times, bear their whole wealth about their persons:--but they are brave, and have been oppressed;--disappointment, therefore, and their situation, may cause them to fight in their defence, like heros.

_2 Rob._ Nay, an they fight like devils, they'll find we can match them in courage. Put me to any proof you please, and they shall soon find me a man.

_Gondi._ Then, prove it, friend, by pity for the unfortunate. Believe me, comrades, he has little better to boast than a brute, who cannot temper his courage with feeling. And, now, as our expedition is at hand, let each of you observe my orders. If there be any whose appearance denotes a more than common birth, treat him with due respect, and conduct him to my cave. As to the plunder (which our wild life obliges us to exact from the way-worn pa.s.senger) on this occasion, pr'ythee, good comrades, take sparingly, and use your prisoners generously.

_4 Rob._ [_Half aside, and muttering._] 'Sblood! this captain of ours had better take to the pulpit than the road. If he must preach so plaguily about generosity, he might, at least, pay for it out of his own pocket.

_Gondi._ Who's he that dares to mutter? Come forth, thou wretch! Thus do I punish mutiny, and presumption.

[_Pulls him down, and holds his Sword over him._

_4 Rob._ Oh, mercy! good Captain, mercy!

_Gondi._ Well, take it, though thou deservest none; and learn from this, thou poor, base reptile! how to show mercy to others whom fortune places in thy power. Now, friends, all to your posts. I shall go forth alone. You have your orders, and I know you will obey them strictly.

The night steals on us apace; and the angry clouds, threatning a storm, add to the awful gloom of the forest. Away, boys! and be steady.