Now, benedicite! 
        What foul absurdity,
        Folly and foolery
        Had like to follow me! 
        I and my mates,
        Like addle-pates,
        Inviting great states
        To see our last play,
        Are hunting the hay,
        With “Ho! that way
        The goodly hart ran,”
        With “Follow, Little John! 
        Much, play the man!”
        And I, like a sot,
        Have wholly forgot
        The course of our plot
        But, cross-bow, lie down,
        Come on, friar’s gown,
        Hood, cover my crown,
        And with a low beck
        Prevent a sharp check.

Blithe sit ye all, and wink at our rude cry: 
Mind, where we left in Sherwood merrily
The king, his train Robin, his yeomen tall,
Gone to the wood to see the fat deer fall. 
We left maid Marian busy in the bower,
And pretty Jenny looking every hour
For their returning from the hunting-game,
And therefore seek to set each thing in frame. 
Warman all woful for his sin we left: 
Sir Doncaster, whose villanies and theft
You never heard of, but too soon ye shall,
Housed[259] with the Prior, shame them both befall! 
They two will make our mirth be short and small. 
But lest I bring ye sorrow ere the time,
Pardon I beg of your well-judging eyne,
And take in part bad prologue and rude play. 
The hunters halloo!  Tuck must needs away. 
Therefore down, weed;

        Bow, do the deed
        To make the stag bleed;
        And if my hand speed,
        Hey for a cry,
        With a throat strain’d high,
        And a loud yall
        At the beast’s fall

    Enter KING, ELY, FITZWATER, SALISBURY, CHESTER,
    PRINCE JOHN, LITTLE JOHN, SCATHLOCK.

KING.  Where is our mother?[260]

JOHN.  Mounted in a stand: 
Six fallow deer have died by her hand.

FITZ.  Three stags I slew.

ELY.  Two bucks by me fell down.

CHES.  As many died by me.

SAL.  But I had three.

JOHN.  Scathlock, where’s Much?

SCATH.  When last I saw him, may it please your grace,
He and the Friar footed it apace.

JOHN.  Scathlock, no grace—­your fellow and plain John.

LIT.  JOHN.  I warrant you, Much will be here anon.

JOHN.  Think’st thou, Little John, that he must Jenny wed?

LIT.  JOHN.  No doubt he must.

JOHN.  Then to adorn his head,
We shall have horns good store.

KING.  God, for thy grace,
How could I miss the stag I had in chase? 
Twice did I hit him in the very neck,
When back my arrows flew, as they had smit
On some sure armour.  Where is Robin Hood
And the wight[261] Scarlet?  Seek them, Little John.
                               [Exit LITTLE JOHN. 
I’ll have that stag, before I dine, to-day.