He shall not go scot-free, the others reply’d ;
So strait they were seizing him there,
To duck him likewise : but Robin Hood cries,
He is a stout fellow ; forbear. {295}
There’s no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid ;
These bowmen upon me do wait ;
There’s threescore and nine ; if thou wilt be mine,
Thou shalt have my livery strait,
And other accoutrements fit for a man ;
Speak up, jolly blade, never fear :