A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 22

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

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

ROB. H. Give me thy hand; now G.o.d'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 G.o.d, O G.o.d! 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 l.u.s.tful 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 pa.s.senger with whom ye meet Shall ye let pa.s.s, 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-ravis.h.i.+ng, 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 compa.s.seth 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 gla.s.s, 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, G.o.d 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.