ACT IV., SCENE I.
Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW,[466] in a suit of leather, close to his body; his face and hands coloured russet-colour, with a flail.
ROB. The doctor's self would scarce know Robin now.
Curs'd Marian may go seek another man,
For I intend to dwell no longer with her,
Since that the bastinado drove me thence.
These silken girls are all too fine for me:
My master shall report of those in hell,
Whilst I go range amongst the country-maids,
To see, if homespun lasses milder be
Than my curs'd dame and Lacy's wanton wife.
Thus therefore will I live betwixt two shapes;
When as I list, in this transform'd disguise,
I'll fright the country-people as they pass;
And sometimes turn me to some other form,
And so delude them with fantastic shows.
But woe betide the silly dairymaids,
For I shall fleet their cream-bowls night by night.
And slice the bacon-flitches as they hang.
Well, here in Croydon will I first begin
To frolic it among the country lobs.
This day, they say, is call'd Holyrood-day,
And all the youth are now a-nutting gone.
Here are a crew of younkers in this wood,
Well-sorted, for each lad hath got his lass.
Marry, indeed, there is a tricksy[467] girl,
That three or four would fain be doing with,
But that a wily priest among the rest
Intends to bear her sheer away from all.
The miller, and my brother Grim the collier
Appointed here to scuffle for her love.
I am on Grim's side; for long time ago
The devil call'd the collier like to like:[468]
Enter GRIM, CLACK, PARSON SHORTHOSE, JOAN, with a bag of nuts.
But here the miller and the collier come,
With Parson Makebate and their tricksy girl.
GRIM. Parson, persuade me no more. I come,
Jug, to your custody; Jug, hold the nut-bag.
CLACK. Nay, I will give you nuts to crack.
GRIM. Crack in thy throat and hauster[469] too.
SHO. Neighbours, I wish you both agree:
Let me be judge, be rul'd by me.
GRIM. Master Parson, remember what Pueriles[470] saith, Ne accesseris ad concilio, &c. I tell you I found this written in the bottom of one of my empty sacks. Never persuade men that be inexecrable. I have vowed it, and I will perform it. The quarrel is great, and I have taken it upon my own shoulders.
CLACK. Ay, that thou shalt, ere I have done; for I will lay it on, i'faith.
GRIM. If you lay it in, I must bear it out, this is all. If you strike, I must stand to anything, although it be the biggest blow that you can lay upon me.
JOAN. Ye both have ofttimes sworn that ye love me;
Let me overrule you in this angry mood.
Neighbours and old acquaintance, and fall out!
ROB. Why, that is, because thou wilt not let them fall in.
GRIM. I say, my heart bleedeth when thou speaketh, and therefore do not provoke me. Yet, miller, as I am monstrous angry, so I have a wonderful great mind to be repeas'd. Let's think what harm cometh by this same fighting; if we should hurt one another, how can we help it? Again, Clack, do but here forswear Joan's company, and I'll be thine instead of her, to use in all your businesses from Croydon to London; yours, Gilbert Grim, the chief collier for the king's majesty's own mouth.
CLACK. O Grim, do I smell you? I'll make you forswear her before we two part; and therefore come on to this gear. Collier, I will lay on load, and when it is done, let who will take it off again.
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 hell
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 chastity:
For whilst we two stand closely here unseen,
We shall espy them presently approach.
LACY. O, show me this, thou blessed man of God,
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.
Never since wedlock tied her to the earl,
Have I saluted her; although report
Is blaz'd abroad of her inconstancy.
This is her evening walk, and here will I
Attend her coming forth, and greet her fairly.
LACY. See, Dunstan, how their youth doth blind our age!
Thou dost deceive thyself and bringest me
To see my proper shame and infamy.
Enter HONOREA.
But here she comes: my hope, my fear, my love.
DUN. Here comes the unstain'd honour of thy bed.
Thy ears shall hear her virtuous, chaste replies,
And make thy heart confess thou dost her wrong.
HON. Now modest love hath banish'd wanton thoughts,
And alter'd me from that I was before,
To that chaste life I ought to entertain.
My heart is tied to that strict form of life,
That I joy only to be Lacy's wife.
LACY. God fill thy mind with these chaste, virtuous thoughts!
MUS. O, now I see her, I am half asham'd
Of so long absence, of neglect of speech.
My dearest lady, patroness of beauty,
Let thy poor servant make his true excuse!
HON. Musgrave, I easily take your excuse,
Accusing my fond self for what is pass'd.
MUS. Long time we wanted opportunity;
But now the forelock of well-wishing time
Hath bless'd us both, that here without suspect
We may renew the tenor of our loves.
LACY. O Dunstan, how she smiles to hear him speak!
HON. No, child of fortune and inconstancy,
Thou shalt not train me, or induce my love
To loose desires or dishonoured thoughts.
'Tis God's own work that struck a deep remorse
Into my tainted heart for my pass'd folly.
MUS. O, thou confound'st me! Speak as thou wert won't,
Like Love herself, my lovely Honorea.
HON. Why, how now, Musgrave! what esteem'st thou me,
That thou provokest me, that first denied me?
I will not yield you reasons why I may not,
More than your own. You told me why you would not.
MUS. By heavens, by thee, my saint, my happiness!
No torture shall control my heart in this,
To teach my tongue deny to call thee love.
HON. Well, in regard that in my maiden-days
I lov'd thee well, now let me counsel thee.
Reclaim these idle humours; know thyself;
Remember me, and think upon my lord;
And let these thoughts bring forth those chaste effects,
Which may declare thy change unto the world:
And this assure thee—whilst I breathe this air,
Earl Lacy's honour I will ne'er impair.
[Exit HONOREA.
DUN. Now your eyes see that which your heart believ'd not.
LACY. 'Tis a miracle beyond the reach
Of my capacity! I could weep for joy,
Would but my tears express how much I love her!
Men may surmise amiss in jealousy,
Of those that live in untouch'd honesty.
MUS. Is she departed? and do I conceive
This height of grief, and do no violence
Unto myself? Said she I denied her?
Far be it from my heart to think that thought.
All ye that, as I do, have felt this smart,
Ye know how burthensome 'tis at my heart.
Hereafter never will I prosecute
This former motion, my unlawful suit;
But, since she is Earl Lacy's virtuous wife,
I'll live a private, pensive, single life.
[Exit MUSGRAVE.
DUN. God doth dispose all at his blessed will;
And he hath chang'd their minds from bad to good,
That we, which see't, may learn to mend ourselves.
LACY. I'll reconcile myself to Musgrave's love:
I will recant my false suspicion,
And humbly make my true submission.
[Exeunt.
Enter MARIAN, chafing.
MAR. Say'st thou thou'lt make the house too hot for me?
I'll soon abroad, and cool me in the air.
I'll teach him never scorn to drink his health
Whom I do love. He thinks to overcrow me
With words and blows; but he is in the wrong,
Begin he when he dares! O, he's too hot
And angry to live long with Marian.
But I'll not long be subject to his rage:
Here 'tis shall rid him of his hateful life,
And bless me with the style of widowhood.
'Twas Harvey's work to temper it so well:
The strongest poison that he could devise.
Enter CLINTON.
I have been too long subject to the slave;
But now I'll cast off that detested yoke.
CLIN. Musgrave, I see, is reconcil'd to th'earl;
For now I met him walking with Lord Lacy.
Sure, this is Marian's plot, and there she stands.
What, love, alone!
MAR. Ay, captain, much disturb'd
About the frantic doctor's jealousy;
Who, though he seem'd content when thou wast there,
He after fell reviling thee and me;
Robb'd me of all my jewels; locks his plate
In his own trunk; and let's me only live
To bear the idle title of his wife.
CLIN. Fair Marian, by a soldier's loyal faith,
If my employment any way may help
To set thee free from this captivity,
Use me in any sort: command my sword;
I'll do't, as soon as thou shalt speak the word.
MAR. Now, by my true love, which I wish to thee,
I conjure thee with resolution
To slay that monster! Do not fail to do it!
For, if thou dost, I would I had not spoke it.
CLIN. Now try me; and, when next we hap to meet,
The doctor lies stone dead at Clinton's feet.
MAR. Nay, now I see thou lov'st me.
CLIN. Say no more.
If thou dost loathe him, he shall die therefore.
MAR. To-morrow morning will he early rise
To see Earl Lacy: meet him in the cloister,
And make that place revenge his sanctuary.
This night will I break open all the trunks,
Rifle his caskets, rob him of his gold;
And all the doctor's treasure shall be thine.
If thou miscarry, yet this drink shall do it.
Enter CASTILIANO.
CAS. My wife's impatience hath left me alone,
And made my servant run, I know not whither.
MAR. Peace! here is our eyesore. Clinton, leave us now.
CLIN. Nay, now occasion smiles, and I will do it.
[CLINTON draweth his sword.
MAR. Put up thy sword; be it thy morning's work:
Farewell to-night; but fail me not to-morrow.
CLIN. Farewell, my love. No rest shall close these eyes, Until the morning peep; and then he dies. [Exit CLINTON.
CAS. [Soliloq.] Now I remember, I have quite outrun
My time prefix'd to dwell upon the earth:
Yet Akercock is absent: where is he?
O, I am glad I am so well near rid
Of my earth's plague and my lascivious dame.
MAR. Hath he discover'd my intendment,
That he presages his ensuing death?
I must break off these fearful meditations.
CAS. How shall I give my verdict up to Pluto
Of all these accidents?
MAR. Why, how now, man?
CAS. What, my dear dame! my reconciled spouse!
Upon my soul, my love to thee is more
Now at this present than 'twas e'er before.
MAR. He hath descried me sure, he sootheth me so! [Aside.]
CAS. I love thee now, because I now must leave thee.
This was the day of my nativity,
And therefore, sweet wife, let us revel it.
MAR. Nay, I have little cause to joy at all.
CAS. Thou Grossest still my mirth with discontents!
If ever heretofore I have displeas'd thee,
Sweet dame, I crave thy pardon now for all.
This is my birthday, girl, I must rejoice:
Ask what thou wilt, and I will give it thee.
MAR. Should I but ask to lead a quiet life,
You hardly would grant this unto your wife;
Much less a thing that were of more import.
CAS. Ask anything, and try if I'll deny thee.
MAR. O my poor Musgrave, how hast thou been wrong'd,
And my fair lady!
CAS. Use no preambles,
But tell me plainly.
MAR. Nay, remember them,
And join their slander to that love you owe me,
And then old Lacy's jealousy.
CAS. What then?
MAR. Nay, now I see you will not understand me.
CAS. Thou art too dark; speak plainly, and 'tis done.
MAR. Then doom the earl, and bless poor Musgrave's eyes
With Honorea's love; for this in thy hands lies.
CAS. How should I doom him?
MAR. How else, but to death?
CAS. As if his life or death lay in my hands?
MAR. He is thy patient, is he not?
CAS. He is.
MAR. Then in thy hands lie both his life and death.
Sweet love, let Marian beg it at thy hand:
Why should the grey-beard live to cross us all?
Nay, now I see thee frown: thou wilt not do it.
CAS. Fie, fie, dame! you are too suspicious.
Here is my hand, that thou may'st know I love thee;
I'll poison him this night before I sleep.
MAR. Thou dost but flatter me!
CAS. Tush! I have sworn it.
MAR. And wilt thou do it?
CAS. He is sure to die.
MAR. I'll kiss thy lips for speaking that kind word:
But do it, and I'll hang about thy neck,
And curl thy hair, and sleep betwixt thy arms,
And teach thee pleasures which thou never knew'st.
CAS. Promise no more, and trouble me no more:
The longer I stay here, he lives the longer.
I must go to him now, and now I'll do it.
Go home and hasten supper 'gainst I come:
We will carouse to his departing soul.
MAR. I will, dear husband; but remember me: [Aside.] When thou hast poison'd him, I'll poison thee. [Exit MARIAN.
CAS. O wonderful, how women can dissemble!
Now she can kiss me, hang about my neck,
And soothe me with smooth smiles and lewd entreaties.
Well, I have promis'd her to kill the earl;
And yet, I hope ye will not think I'll do it.[474]
Yet I will sound the depth of their device,
And see the issue of their bloody drift.
I'll give the earl, unknown to any man,
A sleepy potion, which shall make him seem
As if he were stark dead, for certain hours:
But in my absence no man shall report
That for my dame's sake I did any hurt.
[Exit.