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.

FRIAR.  Say’st thou me so, lad? lend him thine,
For in this bush here lieth mine. 
Now will I try this new-come guest.

SCATH.  I am his first man, Friar Tuck,
And if I fail, and have no luck,
Then thou with him shalt have a pluck.

FRIAR.  Be it so, Scathlock.  Hold thee, lad,
No better weapons can be had: 
The dew doth them a little rust;
But, hear ye, they are tools of trust.[239]

JOHN.  Gramercy, Friar, for this gift,
And if thou come unto my shrift,
I’ll make thee call those fellows fools
That on their foes bestow such tools.

SCATH.  Come, let’s to’t.

        [Fight, and the FRIAR looks on.

FRIAR.  The youth is deliver[240] and light,
He presseth Scathlock with his might: 
Now, by my beads, to do him right,
I think he be some tried knight.

SCATH.  Stay, let us breathe!

JOHN.  I will not stay;
If you leave, Friar, come away.

SCATH.  I prythee, Friar, hold him play.

FRIAR.  Friar Tuck will do the best he may.

[Fight.

Enter MARIAN.

MAR.  Why, what a noise of swords is here! 
Fellows, and fight our bower so near?

SCATH.  Mistress, he is no man of yours,
That fights so fast with Friar Tuck;
But, on my word, he is a man
As good for strength as any can.

MAR.  Indeed, he’s more than common men can be;
In his high heart there dwells the blood of kings. 
Go call my Robin, Scathlock:  [Aside] ’tis Prince John.

SCATH.  Mistress, I will:  I pray [thee] part the fray. [Exit.

MAR.  I prythee go, I will do what I may. 
Friar, I charge thee hold thy hand.

FRIAR.  Nay, younker, to your tackling stand. 
What, all amort,[241] will you not fight?

JOHN.  I yield, unconquer’d by thy might,
But by Matilda’s glorious sight.

FRIAR.  Mistress, he knows you:  what is he?

JOHN.  Like to amazing wonder she appears,
And from her eye flies love unto my heart,
Attended by suspicious thoughts and fears
That numb the vigour of each outward part. 
Only my sight hath all satiety
And fulness of delight, viewing her deity.

MAR.  But I have no delight in you, Prince John.

FRIAR.  Is this Prince John? 
Give me thy hand, thou art a proper man: 
And for this morning’s work, by saints above,
Be ever sure of Friar Tuck’s true love.

JOHN.  Be not offended that I touch thy shrine;
Make this hand happy:  let it fold in thine.