ACT II., SCENE I.
Enter LITTLE JOHN fighting with the SHERIFF and his men; WARMAN persuading him.
LIT. JOHN. Warman, stand off!
Tit-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! God's pity, husband, why dis no your worship send the kneve to Newgate?
LIT. JOHN. Well, Master Sheriff, shall I pass or no?
SHER. Not without search.
LIT. JOHN. Then here the casket stands:
Any that dares unto it set their hands,
Let him begin.
WIFE. Do, hisband;
You are a majesty: I warrant
There's old knacks, chains, and other toys.
LIT. JOHN. But not for you, good madam beetle-brows.
WIFE. Out upon him! By my truly, Master Justice, and ye do not clap him up, I will sue a bill of remorse, and never come between a pair of sheets with ye. Such a kneve as this! down with him, I pray.
[Set upon him: he knocks some down.
WIFE. Ah, good Lord! come not near, good husband; only charge him, charge him! Ah, good God! help, help!
Enter PRINCE JOHN, the BISHOP OF ELY, the
PRIOR OF YORK, with others. All stay.
JOHN. What tumult have we here? who doth resist
The king's writs with such obstinate contempt?
WIFE. This kneve.
WAR. This rebel.
JOHN. How now, Little John,
Have you no more discretion than you show?
ELY. Lay hold, and clap the traitor by the heels.
LIT. JOHN. I am no traitor, my good Lord of Ely
First hear me, then commit me, if you please.
JOHN. Speak, and be brief.
LIT. JOHN. Here is a little box,
Containing all my gettings twenty year,
Which is mine own, and no man's but mine own:
This they would rifle, this I do defend,
And about this we only do contend.
JOHN. You do the fellow wrong: his goods are his.
You only must extend upon the Earl's.
PRIOR. That was, my lord, but now is Robert Hood;
A simple yeoman, as his servants were.
WIFE. Back with that leg, my Lord Prior: there be some that were his servants think foul scorn to be called yeomen.
PRIOR. I cry your worship mercy, Mistress Warman:
The squire, your husband, was his servant once.
LIT. JOHN. A scurvy squire, with reverence of these lords.
WIFE. Does he not speak treason, pray?
ELY. Sirrah, ye are too saucy: get you hence.
WAR. But hear me first, my lords, with patience.
This scoffing, careless fellow, Little John,
Hath loaden hence a horse 'twixt him and Much,
A silly, rude knave—Much, the miller's son.
Enter MUCH, Clown.
MUCH. I am here to answer for myself, and have taken you in two lies at once: first, Much is no knave, neither was it a horse Little John and I loaded, but a little curtal of some five handfuls high, sib to the ape's only beast at Paris Garden.[176]
LIT. JOHN. But, Master Warman, you have loaded carts,
And turned my lord's goods to your proper use.
Whoever hath the right, you do the wrong,
And are—
WIFE. What is he, kneve?
LIT. JOHN. Unworthy to be nam'd a man.
MUCH. And I'll be sworn for his wife.
WIFE. Ay, so thou mayest, Much.
MUCH. That she sets new marks of all my old lady's linen (God rest her soul!), and my young lord never had them since.
WIFE. Out, out! I took him them but for to whiten, as God mend me.
ELY. Leave off this idle talk; get ye both hence.
LIT. JOHN. I thank your honours: we are not in love
With being here.
We must seek service that are masterless.
[Exeunt MUCH and LITTLE JOHN.
ELY. Lord Prior of York, here's your commission.
You are best make speed, lest in his country houses,
By his appointment, all his herds be sold.
PRIOR. I thank your honour, taking humble leave.
[Exit.
ELY. And, Master Warman, here's your patent sealed
For the High Sheriffwick of Nottingham;
Except the king our master do repeal
This gift of ours.
JOHN. Let him the while possess it.
ELY. A God's name, let him; he hath my good will.
[Exit.
JOHN. Well, Warman, this proud priest I cannot brook.
But to our other matter: send thy wife away.
WAR. Go in, good wife; the prince with me hath private conference.
WIFE. By my troth, ye will anger me: now ye have the pattern, ye should call me nothing but Mistress Sheriff; for I tell you I stand upon my replications. [Exit.
JOHN. Thinkest thou that Marian means
To 'scape this evening hence with Robin Hood?
The horse-boy told me so; and here he comes,
Disguised like a citizen, methinks.
Warman, let's in; I'll fit him presently:
Only for Marian am I now his enemy.
[Exeunt.
Enter ROBIN, like a citizen.
ROB. H. Earl John[177] and Warman, two good friends of mine:
I think they knew me not, or if they did
I care not what can follow. I am sure
The sharpest end is death, and that will come.
But what of death or sorrow do I dream?
My Marian, my fair life, my beauteous love
Is coming, to give comfort to my grief,
And the sly queen, intending to deceive,
Hath taught us how we should her sleights receive.[178]
But who is this? God's pity! here's Prince John.
JOHN. Good even, sir. This clear evening should portend
Some frost, I think: how judge you, honest friend?
ROB. H. I am not weather-wise; but it may be
We shall have hard frost; for true charity,
Good dealing, faithful friendship, honesty,
Are chill-cold, dead with cold.
JOHN. O good sir, stay,
That frost hath lasted many a bitter day.
Know ye no frozen hearts that are belov'd?
ROB. H. Love is a flame, a fire, that being moved,
Still brighter grows. But say, are you beloved?
JOHN. I would be, if I be not: but pass that.
Are ye a dweller in this city, pray?
ROB. H. I am; and for a gentlewoman stay,
That rides some four or five mile in great haste.
Enter QUEEN and MARIAN.[179]
JOHN. I see your labour, sir, is not in waste,
For here come two; are either of these yours?
ROB. H. Both are—one most.[180]
JOHN. Which do you most respect?
ROB. H. The youngest and the fairest I reject.
JOHN. Robin, I'll try you, whether ye say true. [Aside.
ROB. H. As you with me, so, John, I'll jest with you. [Aside.
QU. ELIN. Marian, let me go first to Robin Hood,
And I will tell him what we do intend.
MAR. Do what your highness please; your will is mine.
JOHN. My mother is with gentle Marian:
O, it doth grieve her to be left behind.
QU. ELIN. Shall we away, my Robin, lest the queen
Betray our purpose? sweet, let us away:
I have great will to go, no heart to stay.
ROB. H. Away with thee? No; get thee far away
From me, foul Marian, fair though thou be nam'd;
For thy bewitching eyes have raised storms,
That have my name and noblesse ever sham'd;
Prince John, my dear friend once, is now for thee
Become an unrelenting enemy.
JOHN. But I'll relent and love thee, if thou leave her.
ROB. H. And Elinor my sovereign, mother-queen,[181]
That yet retains true passion in her breast,
Stands mourning yonder. Hence! I thee detest.
I will submit me to her majesty.
Great princess, if you will but ride with me
A little of my way, I will express
My folly past, and humble pardon beg.
MAR. I grant, Earl Robert, and I thank thee too.
QU. ELIN. She's not the queen; sweet Robin, it is I.
ROB. H. Hence, sorceress! thy beauty I defy.
If thou have any love at all to me,
Bestow it on Prince John; he loveth thee.
[Exeunt ROBIN, MARIAN.
JOHN. And I will love thee, Robin, for this deed,
And help thee, too, in thy distressful need.
QU. ELIN. Wilt thou not stay nor speak, proud Huntington?
Ay me! some whirlwind hurries them away.
JOHN. Follow him not, fair love, that from thee flies,
But fly to him that gladly follows thee.
Wilt thou not, girl? turn'st thou away from me?
QU. ELIN. Nay, we shall have it then,
If my quaint son his mother 'gin to court. [Aside.
JOHN. Wilt thou not speak, fair Marian, to Prince John,
That loves thee well?
QU. ELIN. Good sir, I know you do.
JOHN. That can maintain thee.
QU. ELIN. Ay, I know you can,
But hitherto I have maintained you.
JOHN. My princely mother!
QU. ELIN. Ay, my princely son.
JOHN. Is Marian then gone hence with Huntington?
QU. ELIN. Ay, she is gone; ill may they either thrive.
JOHN. Mother, they [needs] must go, whom the devil drives;
For your sharp fury and infernal rage,
Your scorn of me, your spite to Marian,
Your overdoating love to Huntington,
Hath cross'd yourself, and me it hath undone.
QU. ELIN. I in mine own deceit have met deceit:
In brief the manner thus I will repeat.
I knew with malice that the Prior of York
Pursued Earl Robert; and I furthered it,
Though God can tell, for love of Huntington.
For thus I thought: when he was in extremes,
Need and my love would win some good regard
From him to me, if I reliev'd his want.
To this end came I to the mock spouse-feast;
To this end made I change for Marian's weed,
That me for her Earl Robert should receive:
But now I see they both of them agreed,
In my deceit I might myself deceive.
Come in with me, come in, and meditate
How to turn love to never-changing hate.
[Exit.
JOHN. In by yourself; I pass not for your spells.
Of youth and beauty still you are the foe:
The curse of Rosamond rests on your head,
Fair Rose confounded by your cank'rous hate,[182]
O, that she were not as to me she is,
A mother, whom by nature I must love,
Then I would tell her she were too-too base
To dote thus on a banish'd careless groom:
Then should I tell her that she were too fond
To trust[183] fair Marian to an exile's hand.
Enter a MESSENGER from ELY.
MES. My lord, my Lord of Ely sends for you
About important business of the state.
JOHN. Tell the proud prelate I am not dispos'd
Nor in estate to come at his command.
[Smites him; he bleeds.
Begone with that; or tarry, and take this!
'Zwounds! are ye list'ning for an after-errand?
[Exit MESSENGER.
I'll follow with revengeful, murd'rous hate
The banish'd, beggar'd, bankrupt Huntington.
Enter SIMON, Earl of Leicester.
LEI. How now, Prince John? body of me! I muse
What mad moods toss ye in this busy time
To wound the messenger that Ely sent,
By our consents? i'faith, ye did not well.
JOHN. Leicester, I meant it, Ely, not his man:
His servant's head but bleeds, he headless shall
From all the issues of his traitor-neck
Pour streams of blood, till he be bloodless left.
By earth, it shall—by heaven, it shall be so!
Leicester, it shall, though all the world say no.
LEI. It shall, it shall! but how shall it be done?
Not with a stormy tempest of sharp words,
But slow, still speeches and effecting deeds.
Here comes old Lacy and his brother Hugh!
One is our friend, and the other is not true.
Enter LORD LACY, SIR HUGH, and his Boy.
LACY. Hence, treacher, as thou art! by God's bless'd mother!
I'll lop thy legs off, though thou be my brother,
If with thy flattering tongue thou seek to hide
Thy traitorous purpose. Ah, poor Huntington!
How in one hour have villains thee undone!
HUGH. If you will not believe what I have sworn,
Conceit your worst. My Lord of Ely knows
That what I say is true.
LACY. Still facest thou?
Draw, boy, and quickly see that thou defend thee.
LEI. Patience, Lord Lacy! get you gone, Sir Hugh;
Provoke him not, for he hath told you true:
You know it, that I know the Prior of York,
Together with my good lord chancellor,
Corrupted you, Lord Sentloe, Broughton, Warman,
To feast with Robert on his day of fall.
HUGH. They lie that say it: I defy ye all.
JOHN. Now, by the rood, thou liest. Warman himself,
That creeping Judas, joy'd, and told it me.
LACY. Let me, my lords, revenge me of this wretch,
By whom my daughter and her love were lost.
JOHN. For her, let me revenge: with bitter cost,
Shall Sir Hugh Lacy and his fellows buy
Fair Marian's loss, lost by their treachery;
And thus I pay it.
[Stabs him; he falls; Boy runs in.
LEI. Sure payment, John.
LACY. There let the villain lie.
For this old Lacy honours thee, Prince John:
One treacherous soul is sent to answer wrong.
Enter ELY, CHESTER, Officers, Hugh Lacy's Boy.
BOY. Here, here, my lord! look, where my master lies.
ELY. What murd'rous hand hath kill'd this gentle knight,
Good Sir Hugh Lacy, steward of my lands?
JOHN. Ely, he died by this princely hand.
ELY. Unprincely deed! Death asketh death, you know.
Arrest him, officers.
JOHN. O sir, I will obey.
You will take bail, I hope.
CHES. 'Tis more, sir, than he may.
LEI. Chester, he may by law, and therefore shall.
ELY. Who are his bail?
LEI. I.
LACY. And I.
ELY. You are confederates.
JOHN. Holy Lord, you lie.
CHES. Be reverend, Prince John: my Lord of Ely,
You know, is Regent for his majesty,
JOHN. But here are letters from his majesty,
Sent out of Joppa, in the Holy Land,
To you, to these, to me, to all the state,
Containing a repeal of that large grant,
And free authority to take the seal
Into the hands of three lords temporal
And the Lord Archbishop of Roan, he sent.
And he shall yield it, or as Lacy lies,
Desertfully, for pride and treason stabb'd,
He shall ere long lie. Those, that intend as I,
Follow this steely ensign, lift on high.
[Lifts up his drawn sword. Exit, cum LEICESTER and LACY.
ELY. A thousand thousand ensigns of sharp steel,
And feather'd arrows from the bow of death,
Against proud John wrong'd Ely will employ.
My Lord of Chester, let me have your aid,
To lay the pride of haught,[184] usurping John.
CHES. Some other course than war let us bethink:
If it may be, let not uncivil broils
Our civil hands defile.
ELY. God knows that I
For quiet of the realm would aught forbear:
But give me leave, my noble lord, to fear,
When one I dearly lov'd is murdered
Under the colour of a little wrong
Done to the wasteful Earl of Huntington;
Whom John, I know, doth hate unto the death,
Only for love he bears to Lacy's daughter.
CHES. My lord, it's plain this quarrel is but pick'd
For an inducement to a greater ill;
But we will call the council of estate,
At which the Mother Queen shall present be:
Thither by summons shall Prince John be call'd,
Leicester, and Lacy, who, it seems,
Favour some factious purpose of the prince.
ELY. You have advised well, my Lord of Chester;
And as you counsel, so do I conclude.
[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 God 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 passed 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 mass,
A pretty girl, a very bonny lass.
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 'lustrate
Both prince and potentate.
These from their graves
See asses 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 lust do uncase
From the placket to the pap:
God 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.
God give no blessing
To such base counterfeiting.
LIT. JOHN. Stop, Master Skelton! whither will you run?
FRIAR. God'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.
WAR. Master Friar, be brief; delay no time.
Scarlet and Scathlock, never hope for life:
Here is the place of execution,
And you must answer law for what is done.
SCAR. Well, if there be no remedy, we must:
Though it ill-seemeth, Warman, thou should'st be
So bloody to pursue our lives thus cruelly.
SCATH. Our mother sav'd thee fro the gallows, Warman:
His father did prefer thee to thy lord.
One mother had we both, and both our fathers
To thee and to thy father were kind friends.
FRIAR. Good fellows, here you see his kindness ends:
What he was once he doth not now consider.
You must consider of your many sins:
This day in death your happiness begins.
SCAR. If you account it happiness, good Friar,
To bear us company I you desire:
The more the merrier; we are honest men.
WAR. Ye were first outlaws, then ye proved thieves,
And now all carelessly ye scoff at death.
Both of your fathers were good, honest men;
Your mother lives, their widow, in good fame;
But you are scapethrifts, unthrifts, villains, knaves,
And as ye lived by shifts, shall die with shame.
SCATH. Warman, good words, for all your bitter deeds:
Ill-speech to wretched men is more than needs.
Enter RALPH, running.
RAL. Sir, retire ye, for it hath thus succeeded: the carnifex or executor, riding on an ill-curtal, hath titubated or stumbled, and is now cripplified, with broken or fractured tibiards, and, sending you tidings of success, saith yourself must be his deputy.
WAR. Ill-luck! but, sirrah, you shall serve the turn:
The cords that bind them you shall hang them in.
RAL. How are you, sir, of me opinionated? not to possess your seneschalship or shrievalty, not to be Earl of Nottingham, will Ralph be nominated by the base, scandalous vociferation of a hangman!
Enter ROBIN HOOD, like an old man.
ROB. H. Where is the Shrieve, kind friends, I you beseech?
With his good worship let me have some speech.
FRIAR. There is the Sheriff, father: this is he.
ROB. H. Friar, good alms and many blessings! thank thee.
Sir, you are welcome to this troublous shire:
Of this day's execution did I hear.
Scarlet and Scathlock murder'd my young son:
Me have they robb'd and helplessly undone.
Revenge I would, but I am old and dry:
Wherefore, sweet master, for saint Charity,
Since they are bound, deliver them to me,
That for my son's blood I reveng'd may be.
SCAR. This old man lies: we ne'er did him such wrong.
ROB. H. I do not lie: you wot it too-too well.
The deed was such as you may shame to tell;
But I with all entreats might not prevail
With your stern, stubborn minds, bent all to blood.
Shall I have such revenge then, Master Sheriff,
That with my son's loss may suffice myself?
[ROBIN whispers with them.
WAR. Do, father, what thou wilt, for they must die.
FRIAR. I never heard them touch'd with blood till now.
WAR. Notorious villains! and they made their brags,
The Earl of Huntington would save their lives:
But he is down the wind, as all such shall,
That revel, waste and spend, and take no care.
ROB. H. My horn once winded, I'll unbind my belt, Whereat the swords and bucklers are fast-tied. [To SCARLET and SCATHLOCK.
SCATH. Thanks to your honour. [Aside.] Father, we confess,
And were our arms unbound, we would upheave
Our sinful hands with sorrowing hearts to heaven.
ROB. H. I will unbind you, with the sheriff's leave.
WAR. Do: help him, Ralph: go to them, Master Friar.
ROB. H. And as ye blew your horns at my son's death,
So will I sound your knell with my best breath:
[Sounds his horn.
And here's a blade, that hangeth at my belt,
Shall make ye feel in death what my son felt.
Enter LITTLE JOHN and MUCH.[188] Fight: the FRIAR, making as if he helped the SHERIFF, knocks down his men, crying, Keep the king's peace!
RAL. O, they must be hanged, father.
ROB. H. Thy master and thyself supply their rooms.
Warman, approach me not! tempt not my wrath,
For if thou do, thou diest remediless.
WAR. It is the outlaw'd Earl of Huntington!
Down with him, Friar! O, thou dost mistake![189]
Fly, Ralph, we die else! let us raise the shire.
[SHERIFF runs away, and his men.
FRIAR. Farewell. Earl Robert, as I am true friar,
I had rather be thy clerk than serve the Prior.
ROB. H. A jolly fellow. Scarlet, know'st thou him?
SCAR. He is of York, and of St Mary's cloister,
There where your greedy uncle is Lord Prior.
MUCH. O, murrain on ye! have you two 'scap'd hanging?[190]
Hark ye, my lord: these two fellows kept at Barnsdale
Seven year to my knowledge, and no man[191]—
ROB. H. Here is no biding, masters: get ye in,
Take a short blessing at your mother's hands.
Much, bear them company; make Matilda merry:
John and myself will follow presently.
John, on a sudden thus I am resolv'd—
To keep in Sherwood till the king's return,
And being outlaw'd, lead an outlaw's life.
(Seven years these brethren, being yeomen's sons,
Lived and 'scap'd the malice of their foes.)[192]
How think'st thou, Little John, of my intent?
LIT. JOHN. I like your honour's purpose exceeding well.
ROB. H. Nay, no more honour, I pray thee, Little John;
Henceforth I will be called Robin Hood.
Matilda shall be my maid Marian.
Come, John, friends all, for now begins the game;
And after our deserts so grow our fame!
[_Exeunt.