A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 8 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 460 pages of information about A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 8.

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 8 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 460 pages of information about A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 8.

[Exeunt winding their horns.

ROB.  H. Marian, thou seest, though courtly pleasures want,
Yet country sport in Sherwood is not scant: 
For the soul-ravishing, delicious sound
Of instrumental music we have found
The winged quiristers with divers notes
Sent from their quaint recording[201] pretty throats,
On every branch that compasseth our bow’r,
Without command contenting us each hour. 
For arras hangings and rich tapestry
We have sweet nature’s best embroidery. 
For thy steel glass, wherein thou wont’st to look,
Thy crystal eyes gaze in a crystal brook. 
At court a flower or two did deck thy head,
Now with whole garlands is it circled. 
For what in wealth we want, we have in flowers,
And what we lose in halls, we find in bowers.

MAR.  Marian hath all, sweet Robert, having thee,
And guesses thee as rich in having me.

ROB.  H. I am indeed;
For, having thee, what comfort can I need?

MAR.  Go in, go in. 
To part such true love, Robin, it were sin.

[Exeunt.

    Enter PRIOR, SIR DONCASTER, FRIAR TUCK.

PRIOR.  To take his body, by the blessed rood,
’Twould do me more than any other good.

DON.  O, ’tis an unthrift, still the churchmen’s foe;
An ill-end will betide him, that I know. 
’Twas he that urged the king to ’sess the clergy,
When to the holy land he took his journey;
And he it is that rescued those two thieves,
Scarlet and Scathlock, that so many griefs
To churchmen did:  and now, they say,
He keeps in Sherwood, and himself doth play
The lawless reaver:[202] hear you, my Lord Prior,
He must be taken, or it will be wrong.

TUCK.  Ay, ay, soon said;
But ere he be, many will lie dead,
Except it be by sleight.

DON.  Ay, there, there, Friar.

TUCK.  Give me, my lord, your execution. 
The widow Scarlet’s daughter, lovely Jenny,
Loves, and is belov’d of Much, the miller’s son. 
If I can get the girl to go with me,
Disguis’d in habit like a pedlar’s mort,[203]
I’ll serve this execution, on my life,
And single out a time alone to take
Robin, that often careless walks alone. 
Why, answer not; remember what I said: 
Yonder, I see, comes Jenny, that fair maid. 
If we agree, then back me soon with aid.

    Enter JENNY with a fardel.

PRIOR.  Tuck, if thou do it—­

DON.  Pray, you do not talk: 
As we were strangers let us careless walk.

JEN.  Now to the green wood wend I, God me speed.

TUCK.  Amen, fair maid, and send thee, in thy need,
Much, that is born to do thee much good deed.

JEN.  Are you there, Friar? nay then, i’faith, we have it.

TUCK.  What, wench? my love?

JEN.  Ay, gi’t me when I crave it.

TUCK.  Unask’d I offer; prythee, sweet girl, take it.

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Project Gutenberg
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 8 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.