A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 90

JOAN. Yet once more hear me speak: leave off for shame, If not for love; and let not others laugh To see your follies; let me overrule you.

SHO. Ay, let them fight, I care not: I Meantime away with Joan will fly; And whilst they two are at it here, We two will sport ourselves elsewhere.

ROB. There's a stone priest! he loveth a wench, indeed: He careth not though both of them do bleed; But Robin Goodfellow will conjure you, And mar your match, and bang you soundly too.

I like this country-girl's condition well; She's faithful, and a lover but to one: Robin stands here to right both Grim and her.

GRIM. Master Parson, look you to my love.

Miller, here I stand With my heart and my hand In sweet Jug's right With thee to fight.

CLACK. Come, let us to it then.

[_They fight_: ROBIN _beateth the miller with a flail, and felleth him_.

ROB. Now, miller, miller dustipoll I'll clapper-claw your jobbernole.

SHO. Come, Jug, let's leave these senseless blocks, Giving each other blows and knocks.

JOAN. I love my Grim too well to leave him so.

SHO. You shall not choose: come, let's away.

[SHORTHOSE _pulleth_ JUG _after him_: ROBIN _beateth the priest with his flail_.

ROB. Nay then, sir priest, I'll make you stay.

CLACK. Nay, this is nothing, Grim; we'll not part so.

I thought to have borne it off with my back sword ward, And I receiv'd it upon my bare costard.[471]

[_They fight again_.

ROB. What, miller, are you up again?

Nay, then, my flail shall never lin,[472]

Until I force one of us twain Betake him to his heels amain.

[ROBIN _beats the miller again_.

CLACK. Hold thy hands, Grim! thou hast murder'd me.

GRIM. Thou liest, it is in mine own offence I do it. Get thee gone then: I had rather have thy room than thy company.

CLACK. Marry, with all my heart. O, the collier playeth the devil with me.

ROB. No, it is the devil playeth the collier with thee. [_Aside_.]

SHO. My bones are sore; I prythee, Joan, Let's quickly from this place be gone.

Nay, come away, I love thee so, Without thee I will never go.

ROB. What, priest, still at your lechery?

[ROBIN _beats the priest_.

I'll thrash you for your knavery.

If any ask who beat thee so, Tell them 'twas Robin Goodfellow.

[SHORTHOSE _runneth away_.

GRIM. O miller, art thou gone? I am glad of it. I smelt my own infirmity every stroke I struck at him. Now, Joan, I dare boldly swear thou art my own; for I have won thee in the plain field. Now Master Parson shall even strike it up; two or three words of his mouth will make her gammer Grim all the days of her life after.

ROB. Here is two well-favoured slaves!

Grim and I may curse all good faces, And not hurt our own.

JOAN. What, my love, how dost thou?

GRIM. Even as a conqueror may do. Jug, for thy sake I have made the miller a poor cripple all the days of his life, good for nothing else but to be carried into the 'spital-house.

ROB. Ay, there is one lie, for thou didst never hurt him. [_Aside_.]

JOAN. I am glad thou 'scapedst, my love, and wast not hurt.

GRIM. Who? I hurt? Joan, thou knowest me not yet: thou mayest do better hereafter. I gave him five mortal wounds the first five strokes I made at him.

ROB. There are five lies clapt into one, for brevity's sake. [_Aside_.]

GRIM. And presently, upon the fifth blow, I made a dangerous thrust at him, and violently overthrew him, horse and foot, and there he lay.

ROB. Nay, there you lie. The collier is excellent To be companion to the devil himself. [_Aside_.]

GRIM. But where's Master Parson?

JOAN. He was well bang'd, and knew not who 'twas did it, And would have had me gone away with him.

Here lieth his nut-bag, and the miller's too: They had no leisure to take them away.

GRIM. The better for us, Joan; there is good cracking work: it will increase household stuff. Come, let's after the parson; we will comfort him, and he shall couple us. I'll have Pounceby the painter score upon our painted cloth[473] at home all the whole story of our going a-nutting this Holyrood-day; and he shall paint me up triumphing over the miller.

[_Exeunt GRIM and JOAN_.

ROB. So let the collier now go boast at home How he hath beat the miller from his love.

I like this modest country maid so well, That I believe I must report in h.e.l.l Better of women than my master can.

Well, till my time's expir'd, I'll keep this quarter, And night by night attend their merry meetings.

[_Exit ROBIN_.

_Enter_ DUNSTAN _with_ EARL LACY _sick_.

DUN. Let not your sickness add more feebleness Unto your weaken'd age; but give me leave To cure thy vain suspicious malady.

Thy eyes shall witness how thou art deceiv'd, Misprizing thy fair lady's chast.i.ty: For whilst we two stand closely here unseen, We shall espy them presently approach.

LACY. O, show me this, thou blessed man of G.o.d, And thou shalt then make young my withered age.

DUN. Mark the beginning; for here Musgrave cometh.

_Enter_ MUSGRAVE.

MUS. O thrice unhappy and unfortunate, That, having fit occasion proffer'd thee Of conference with beauteous Honorea, Thou overslipp'd it, and o'erslipp'dst thyself.