JEN.  Gifts stink with proffer:  foh!  Friar, I forsake it.

TUCK.  I will be kind.

JEN.  Will not your kindness kill her?

TUCK.  With love?

JEN.  You cog.

TUCK.  Tut, girl, I am no miller: 
Hear in your ear.

DON.  The Friar courts her. [Standing behind.

PRIOR.  Tush, let them alone;
He is our Lady’s Chaplain, but serves Joan.

DON.  Then, from the Friar’s fault, perchance, it may be
The proverb grew, Joan’s taken for my lady.

PRIOR.  Peace, good Sir Doncaster, list to the end.

JEN.  But mean ye faith and troth? shall I go wi’ ye?

TUCK.  Upon my faith, I do intend good faith.

JEN.  And shall I have the pins and laces too,
If I bear a pedlar’s pack with you?

TUCK.  As I am holy Friar, Jenny, thou shalt.

JEN.  Well, there’s my hand; see, Friar, you do not halt.

TUCK.  Go but before into the miry mead,
And keep the path that doth to Farnsfield lead;
I’ll into Southwell and buy all the knacks,
That shall fit both of us for pedlar’s packs.

JEN.  Who be they two that yonder walk, I pray?

TUCK.  Jenny, I know not:  be they what they may,
Scare not for them; prythee, do not stay,
But make some speed, that we were gone away.

JEN.  Well, Friar, I trust you that we go to Sherwood.

TUCK.  Ay, by my beads, and unto Robin Hood.

JEN.  Make speed, good Friar.

TUCK.  Jenny, do not fear. [Exit JENNY. 
Lord Prior, now you hear,
As much as I. Get me two pedlar’s packs,
Points, laces, looking-glasses, pins and knacks;
And let Sir Doncaster with some wight lads
Follow us close; and, ere these forty hours,
Upon my life Earl Robert shall be ours.

PRIOR.  Thou shalt have anything, my dearest Friar;
And in amends I’ll make thee my sub-prior. 
Come, good Sir Doncaster, and if we thrive,
We’ll frolic with the nuns of Leeds, belive.[204]

[Exeunt.

    Enter FITZWATER, like an old man.

FITZ.  Well did he write, and mickle did he know,
That said this world’s felicity was woe,
Which greater states can hardly undergo. 
Whilom Fitzwater, in fair England’s court,
Possess’d felicity and happy state,
And in his hall blithe fortune kept her sport,
Which glee one hour of woe did ruinate. 
Fitzwater once had castles, towns, and towers,
Fair gardens, orchards, and delightful bowers;
But now nor garden, orchard, town, nor tower,
Hath poor Fitzwater left within his power. 
Only wide walks are left me in the world,
Which these stiff limbs will hardly let me tread;
And when I sleep, heaven’s glorious canopy
Me and my mossy couch doth overspread. 
Of this injurious John cannot bereave me;
The air and earth he (while I live) must leave me;
But from the English air and earth, poor man,
His tyranny hath ruthless thee exiled. 
Yet e’er I leave it, I’ll do what I can
To see Matilda, my fair luckless child.