SCATH. Ay, do not play the liar,
For he comes here himself to shrive.
Enter FRIAR TUCK.
JOHN. Scathlock, farewell; I will away.
SCATH. See you this arrow? it says nay.
Through both your sides shall fly this feather,
If presently you come not hither.
FRIAR. Now heaven's true liberality
Fall ever for his charity
Upon the head of Robin Hood,
That to his very foes doth good.
Lord God! how he laments the Prior,
And bathes his wounds against the fire.
Fair Marian, God requite it her,
Doth even as much for Doncaster,
Whom newly she hath lain in bed,
To rest his weary, wounded head.
SCATH. Ho! Friar Tuck, know you this mate?
FRIAR. What's he?
SCATH. He says my master late
Gave him his fee and livery.
FRIAR. It is a leasing, credit me.
How chance, sir, then you were not sworn?
JOHN. What mean this groom and lozel friar,
So strictly matters to inquire?
Had I a sword and buckler here,
You should aby these questions dear.