A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VIII (4th edition) - Various
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WAR. O, worse than any death,
When a man wrong'd his wronger pitieth!
ELY. Warman, be comforted, rise and amend:
On my word, Robin Hood will be thy friend.
ROB. H. I will indeed: go in, heart-broken man.
Father Fitzwater, pray lead him in.
Kind Marian, with sweet comforts comfort him,
And my tall yeomen, as you me affect,
Upbraid him not with his forepassed life.
Warman, go in; go in and comfort thee.
WAR. O, God requite your honour's courtesy.
MAR. Scathlock or Scarlet, help us, some of ye.
[_Exeunt_ WARMAN, MARIAN, FITZWATER, SCATHLOCK, SCARLET, MUCH.
_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK _in his truss, without his weed_.
FRIAR. Jesu benedicite!
Pity on pity,
Mercy on mercy,
Misery on misery!
O, such a sight,
As by this light,
Doth me affright?
ROB. H. Tell us the matter, prythee, holy Friar.
FRIAR. Sir Doncaster the priest and the proud Prior
Are stripp'd and wounded in the way to Bawtrey,
And if there go not speedy remedy,
They'll die, they'll die in this extremity.
ROB. H. Alas! direct us to that wretched place:
I love mine uncle, though he hateth me.
FRIAR. My weed I cast to keep them from the cold,
And Jenny, gentle girl, tore all her smock
The bloody issue of their wounds to stop.
ROB. H. Will you go with us, my good Lord of Ely?
ELY. I will, and ever praise thy perfect charity.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ PRINCE JOHN _solus, in green: with bow and arrows_.
JOHN. Why, this is somewhat like: now may I sing,
As did the Wakefield Pinder in his note--
_At Michaelmas cometh my covenant out,
My master gives me my fee:
Then, Robin, I'll wear thy Kendal green,
And wend to the greenwood with thee_.[238]
But for a name now: John it must not be,
Already Little John on him attends:
Greenleaf? Nay, surely there's such a one already:
Well, I'll be Woodnet, hap what happen may.
_Enter_ SCATHLOCK.
Here comes a green coat (good luck be my guide)
Some sudden shift might help me to provide.
SCATH. What, fellow William, did you meet our master?
JOHN. I did not meet him yet, my honest friend.
SCATH. My honest friend! why, what a term is here?
My name is Scathlock, man, and if thou be
No other than thy garments show to me,
Thou art my fellow, though I know thee not.
What is thy name? When wert thou entertain'd?
JOHN. My name is Woodnet; and this very day
My noble master, Earl of Huntington,
Did give me both my fee and livery.
SCATH. Your noble master, Earl of Huntington!
I'll lay a crown you are a counterfeit,
And that, you know, lacks money of a noble.
Did you receive your livery and fee,
And never heard our orders read unto you?
What was the oath was given you by the Friar?
JOHN. Who?--Friar Tuck?
SCATH. Ay, do not play the liar,
For he comes here himself to shrive.
_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK.
JOHN. Scathlock, farewell; I will away.
SCATH. See you this arrow? it says nay.
Through both your sides shall fly this feather,
If presently you come not hither.
FRIAR. Now heaven's true liberality
Fall ever for his charity
Upon the head of Robin Hood,
That to his very foes doth good.
Lord God! how he laments the Prior,
And bathes his wounds against the fire.
Fair Marian, God requite it her,
Doth even as much for Doncaster,
Whom newly she hath lain in bed,
To rest his weary, wounded head.
SCATH. Ho! Friar Tuck, know you this mate?
FRIAR. What's he?
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.
_Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, FITZWATER, ELY, WARMAN.
ROB. H. What saucy woodman, Marian, stands so near?
JOHN. A woodman, Robin, that would strike your deer
With all his heart. Nay, never look so strange,
You see this fickle world is full of change:
John is a ranger, man, compell'd to range.
FITZ. You are young, wild lord, and well may travel bear.
JOHN. What, my old friend Fitzwater, are you there?
And you, Lord Ely? and old best-betruss'd?[242]
Then I perceive that to this gear we must.
A mess of my good friends! which of you four
Will purchase thanks by yielding to the king
The body of the rash, rebellious John?
Will you, Fitzwater?
FITZ. No, John, I defy[243]
To stain my old hands in thy youthful blood.
JOHN. You will, Lord Ely; I am sure you will.
ELY. Be sure, young man, my age means thee no ill.
JOHN. O, you will have the praise, brave Robin Hood.
The lusty outlaw, lord of this large wood:
He'll lead a king's son prisoner to a king,
And bid the brother smite the brother dead.
ROB. H. My purpose you have much misconstrued:
Prince John, I would not for the wide world's wealth
Incense his majesty, but do my best
To mitigate his wrath, if he be mov'd.
JOHN. Will none of you? then, here's one I dare say,
That from his childhood knows how to betray:
Warman, will you not help to hinder all you may?
WAR. With what I have been, twit me not, my lord:
My old sins at my soul I do detest.
JOHN. Then, that he came this way Prince John was blest.
Forgive me, Ely; pardon me, Fitzwater:
And Robin, to thy hands myself I yield.
ROB. H. And as my heart from hurt I will thee shield.
_Enter_ MUCH, _running_.
MUCH. Master, fly! hide ye, mistress! we all shall be taken.
ROB. H. Why, what's the matter?
MUCH. The king! the king! and twelve and twenty score of horses.
ROB. H. Peace, fool! we have no cause from him to fly.
_Enter_ SCARLET, LITTLE JOHN.
LIT. JOHN. Scarlet and I were hunting on the plain;
To us came royal Richard from his train,
For a great train of his is hard at hand,
And questioned us if we serv'd Robin Hood?
I said we did; and then his majesty,
Putting this massy chain about my neck,
Said what I shame to say, but joy'd to hear.
Let Scarlet tell it, it befits not me.
SCAR. Quoth our good king, Thy name is Little John,
And thou hast long time serv'd Earl Huntington:
Because thou left'st him not in misery,
A hundred marks I give thee yearly fee,
And from henceforth thou shalt a squire be.
MUCH. O lord, what luck had I to run away!
I should have been made a knight or a lady, sure.
SCAR. Go, said the king, and to your master say,
Richard is come to call him to the court,
And with his kingly presence chase the clouds
Of grief and sorrow, that in misty shades
Have veil'd the honour of Earl Huntington.
ROB. H. Now God preserve him! hie you back again,
And guide him, lest in bypaths he mistake.
Much, fetch a richer garment for my father;
Good Friar Tuck, I prythee rouse thy wits:
Warman, visit mine uncle and Sir Doncaster,
See if they can come forth to grace our show.
God's pity, Marian, let your Jenny wait.
Thanks, my lord chancellor, you are well prepar'd;
And, good Prince John, since you are all in green,
Disdain not to attend on Robin Hood:
Frolic, I pray; I trust to do ye good.
_Enter_ PRIOR _and_ SIR DONCASTER.[244]
Welcome, good uncle, welcome, Sir Doncaster.
Say, will ye sit; I fear ye cannot stand.
PRIOR. Yes, very well.
ROB. H. Why, cheerly, cheerly then.
The trumpet sounds, the king is now at hand:
Lords, yeomen, maids, in decent order stand.
_The trumpets sound the while_ ROBIN HOOD _places them.
Enter first, bareheaded_, LITTLE JOHN _and_ SCARLET;
_likewise_ CHESTER _and_ LEICESTER, _bearing the sword
and sceptre; the_ KING _follows, crowned, clad in green;
after him_ QUEEN MOTHER; _after her_ SALISBURY _and_
RICHMOND. SCARLET _and_ SCATHLOCK _turn to_ ROBIN HOOD,
_who with all his company kneel down and cry_--
ALL. God save King Richard! Lord preserve your grace!
KING. Thanks all; but chiefly, Huntington, to thee.
Arise, poor earl; stand up, my late-lost son.
And on thy shoulders let me rest my arms,
That have been toiled long with heathen wars.
True pillar of my state, right lord indeed,
Whose honour shineth in the den of need,
I am even full of joy and full of woe,
To see thee, glad; but sad to see thee so.
ROB. H. O, that I could pour out my soul in prayers,
And praises for this kingly courtesy!
Do not, dread lord, grieve at my low estate:
Never so rich, never so fortunate,
Was Huntington as now himself he finds;
And to approve it, may it please your grace,
But to accept such presents at the hand
Of your poor servant as he hath prepar'd.
You shall perceive the Emperor of the East,
Whom you contended with at Babylon,
Had not such presents to present you with.
KING. Art thou so rich? swift,[245] let me see thy gifts.
ROB. H. First, take again this jewel you had lost,
Aged Fitzwater, banished by John.
KING. A gem indeed! no prince hath such a one.
Good, good old man, as welcome unto me
As cool fresh air in heat's extremity.
FITZ. And I as glad to kiss my sovereign's hand,
As the wreck'd swimmer, when he feels the land.
QUEEN. Welcome, Fitzwater, I am glad to see you.
FITZ. I thank your grace: but let me hug these twain,
Leicester and Richmond, Christ's sworn champions,
That follow'd Richard in his holy war.
RICH. Noble Fitzwater, thanks, and welcome both.
LEI. O God, how glad I am to see this lord!
I cannot speak, but welcome at a word.
ROB. H. Next, take good Ely in your royal hands,
Who fled from death and most uncivil bonds.
KING. Robin, thy gifts exceed. Morton, my chancellor!
In this man giv'st thou holiness and honour.
ELY. Indeed he gives me, and he gave me life,
Preserving me from fierce pursuing foes.
When I, to blame, had wrought him many woes.
With me he likewise did preserve this seal,
Which I surrender to your majesty.
KING. Keep it, good Ely, keep it still for me.
ROB. H. The next fair jewel that I will present
Is richer than both these; yet in the foil,
My gracious lord, it hath a foul default
Which if you pardon, boldly I protest,
It will in value far exceed the rest.
JOHN. That's me he means; i'faith, my turn is next.
He calls me foil: i'faith, I fear a foil.
Well, 'tis a mad lord, this same Huntington. [_Aside_.
ROB. H. Here is Prince John, your brother, whose revolt
And folly in your absence, let me crave,
With his submission may be buried;
For he is now no more the man he was,
But dutiful in all respects to you.
KING. Pray God it prove so. Well, good Huntington,
For thy sake pardon'd is our brother John,
And welcome to us in all hearty love.
ROB. H. This last I give, as tenants do their lands,
With a surrender to receive again
The same into their own possession;
No Marian, but Fitzwater's chaste Matilda:
The precious jewel, that poor Huntington
Doth in this world hold as his best esteem.
Although with one hand I surrender her,
I hold the other, as one looking still
Richard return her: so I hope he will.
KING. Else God forbid. Receive thy Marian back,
And never may your love be separate,
But flourish fairly to the utmost date.
ROB. H. Now please my king to enter Robin's bower,
And take such homely welcome as he finds,
It shall be reckon'd as my happiness.
KING. With all my heart. Then, as combined friends,
Go we together: here all quarrel ends.
[_Exeunt_.
_Manent_ SIR JOHN ELTHAM _and_ SKELTON.
SIR JOHN. Then, Skelton, here I see you will conclude.
SKEL. And reason good: have we not held too long?
SIR JOHN. No, in good sadness, I dare gage my life,
His highness will accept it very kindly:
But, I assure you, he expects withal
To see the other matters tragical,
That follow in the process of the story.
Wherein are many a sad accident,
Able to make the stoutest mind relent:
I need not name the points, you know them all!
From Marian's eye shall not one tear be shed?
Skelton, i' faith, 'tis not the fashion.
The king must grieve, the queen must take it ill:
Ely must mourn, aged Fitzwater weep,
Prince John, the lords, his yeomen must lament,
And wring their woful hands for Robin's woe.
Then must the sick man, fainting by degrees,
Speak hollow words, and yield his Marian,
Chaste maid Matilda, to her father's hands;
And give her, with King Richard's full consent,
His lands, his goods, late seiz'd on by the Prior,
Now by the Prior's treason made the king's.
Skelton, there are a many other things,
That ask long time to tell them lineally;
But ten times longer will the action be.
SKEL. Sir John, i' faith, I know not what to do,
And I confess that all you say is true.
Will you do one thing for me? Crave the king
To see two parts: say, 'tis a pretty thing.
I know you can do much; if you excuse me,
While Skelton lives, Sir John, be bold to use me.
SIR JOHN. I will persuade the king; but how can you
Persuade all these beholders to content?
SKEL. Stay, Sir John Eltham: what to them I say,
Deliver to the king from me, I pray.
Well-judging hearers, for a while suspend
Your censures of this play's unfinish'd end,
And Skelton promises for this offence
The second part shall presently be penn'd.
There shall you see, as late my friend did note,
King Richard's revels at Earl Robert's bower;
The purpos'd mirth and the performed moan;
The death of Robin and his murderers.
For interest of your stay, this will I add:
King Richard's voyage back to Austria,
The swift-returned tidings of his death,
The manner of his royal funeral.[246]
Then John shall be a lawful crowned king,
But to Matilda bear unlawful love.
Aged Fitzwater's final banishment;
His piteous end, of power tears to move
From marble pillars. The catastrophe
Shall show you fair Matilda's tragedy,
Who (shunning John's pursuit) became a nun,
At Dunmow[247] Abbey, where she constantly
Chose death to save her spotless chastity.
Take but my word, and if I fail in this,
Then let my pains be baffled with a hiss.
FINIS.
_EDITION_.
_The Death of Robert Earle of Huntington. Otherwise called Robin Hood of
merrie Sherwodde: with the lamentable Tragedie of chaste Matilda, his
faire maid Marian, poysoned at Dunmowe by King Iohn. Acted by the Right
Honourable the Earle of Notingham, Lord high Admirall of England, his
seruants. Imprinted at London, for William Leake_ 1601. 4to. B.L.
INTRODUCTION.
Henry Chettle, who certainly joined Anthony Munday in writing "The Death
of Robert Earl of Huntington,"[248] if he did not also assist in penning
"The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington," was a very prolific
dramatic author. Malone erroneously states that he was the writer of, or
was concerned in, thirty plays; according to information which he
himself furnishes, forty-two are, either wholly or in part, to be
assigned to Chettle. The titles of only twenty-five are inserted in the
"Biographia Dramatica." The proof of his connection with the historical
play now reprinted has been already supplied,[249] and it is derived
from the same source as nearly all the rest of the intelligence
regarding his works--the MSS. of Henslowe.
Of the incidents of the life of Henry Chettle absolutely nothing is
known: we are ignorant of the times and places of his birth and death,
and of the manner in which he obtained his education. It has been
conjectured that he either was, or had been, a printer, but the point
is very doubtful.[250] In a tract by him, called "England's Mourning
Garment," on the death of Queen Elizabeth, he speaks of himself as
having been "young almost thirty years ago," and as having been a
witness of what passed at that period in the Court. If Ritson's
conjecture [had been] well-founded, he [might have been admitted as]
an author as early as 1578;[251] but the poetical tract assigned to
him [under that date was the work of some other writer with the same
initials, whose name is not known.]
The first account we have of Chettle in connection with the stage is
under date of April 1599,[252] when, according to Henslowe, he was
engaged with Dekker in writing a play called "Troilus and Cressida;" but
there is good reason to infer, that if in 1603 he were "young almost
thirty years ago," he had written for the theatre before 1599. Besides,
in his "Kind Hartes Dreame," produced about three months after the
death of his friend Robert Greene, on September 3d, 1592, he speaks
generally of his connection with the dramatic poets of that day, as if
it were not newly formed. Malone supposed that Shakespeare, with whom
Chettle had then recently become acquainted, was alluded to in the same
tract. In "England's Mourning Garment" Chettle addresses a stanza to
"silver-tongued Melicert," [whom some critics have supposed to be
Shakespeare. But this is mere conjecture.]
Francis Meres, in his often-quoted "Palladis Tamia" (1598), includes
Chettle in a long list of other writers for the stage, as "one of the
best for comedy;" but in earlier works upon the poetry and literature of
England, such as Webbe's "Discourse" in 1586, and Puttenham's "Art of
English Poesie" in 1589, he is not mentioned.
Henslowe's list of plays, with the authors' names attached, as [edited
by Mr Collier], begins [in February 1591-2;] and there the first mention
of Chettle is in February 1597-8: between that date and March 1602-3, a
period of little more than five years, he wrote, or assisted in writing,
all the dramatic performances with which his name is associated; a fact
of itself sufficient to show, if Henslowe be accurate, that in many of
them his share must have been very inconsiderable, perhaps only
amounting to a few alterations. They are the following, exclusive of
those pieces already enumerated,[253] in which he was concerned with
Munday:--
1. The Valiant Welchman, by Michael Drayton and Henry Chettle, February
1597-8. Printed in 1615.[254]
2. Earl Goodwin and his Three Sons, Part I., by Michael Drayton, Henry
Chettle, Thomas Dekker, and Robert Wilson, March 1598. Not printed.
3. Earl Goodwin, Part II., by the same authors, and under the same date
in Henslowe's papers. Not printed.
4. Piers of Exton, by the same authors, same date. Not printed.
5. Black Batman of the North, Part I., by Henry Chettle, April 1598. Not
printed.
6. Black Batman of the North, Part II., by Henry Chettle and Robert
Wilson. Same date. Not printed.
7. The Play of a Woman, by Henry Chettle, July 1598. Not printed.[255]
8. The Conquest of Brute with the first finding of the Bath, by John
Day, Henry Chettle, and John Singer. Same date. Not printed.
9. Hot Anger soon Cold, by Henry Porter, Henry Chettle, and Ben Jonson,
August 1598. Not printed.
10. Catiline's Conspiracy, by Robert Wilson and Henry Chettle. Same
date. Not printed.
11. 'Tis no Deceit to Deceive the Deceiver, by Henry Chettle, September
1598. Not printed.
12. Aeneas' Revenge, with the Tragedy of Polyphemus, by Henry Chettle,
February 1598-9. Not printed.
13. Agamemnon, by Henry Chettle and Thomas Dekker, June 1599. Not
printed. Malone thought that this was the same play as "Troilus and
Cressida" before mentioned.
14. The Stepmother's Tragedy, by Henry Chettle, August 1599. Not
printed.
15. Patient Grissel, by Thomas Dekker, Henry Chettle, and William
Haughton, December 1599. Printed in 1603.
16. The Arcadian Virgin, by Henry Chettle and William Haughton. Same
date. Not printed.
17. Damon and Pithias, by Henry Chettle, January 1599-1600. Not
printed.[256]
18. The Seven Wise Masters, by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, William
Haughton, and John Day, March 1599-1600. Not printed.
19. The Golden Ass and Cupid and Psyche, by Thomas Dekker, John Day, and
Henry Chettle, April 1600. Not printed.
20. The Wooing of Death, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.
21. The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, by Henry Chettle and John Day.
Same date. Printed in 1659.
22. All is not Gold that Glisters, by Samuel Rowley and Henry Chettle,
March 1600. Not printed.
23. Sebastian, King of Portugal, by Henry Chettle and Thomas Dekker,
April 1601. Not printed.
24. Cardinal Wolsey, Part I., by Henry Chettle, August 1601. Not
printed.
25. Cardinal Wolsey, Part II., by Henry Chettle, May 1602. Not printed.
26. The Orphan's Tragedy, by Henry Chettle, September 1601. Not printed.
27. Too Good to be True, by Henry Chettle, Richard Hathwaye, and
Wentworth Smith, November 1601. Not printed.
28. Love Parts Friendship, by Henry Chettle and Wentworth Smith, May
1602. Not printed.
29. Tobyas, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.
30. Jeptha, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.
31. A Danish Tragedy, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Not printed.
32. Femelanco, by Henry Chettle and ---- Robinson, September 1602. Not
printed.
33. Lady Jane, Part I., by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Haywood,
Wentworth Smith, and John Webster, November 1602. Not printed.
34. Lady Jane, Part II., by the same authors, Smith excepted. Same date.
Not printed.
35. The London Florentine, Part I., by Thomas Heywood and Henry Chettle,
December 1602. Not printed.
36. The London Florentine, Part II., by the same authors. Same date. Not
printed.
37. The Tragedy of Hoffman, by Henry Chettle. Same date. Printed in
1631.
38. Jane Shore, by Henry Chettle and John Day, March 1602-3. Not
printed.
Among the scattered notices in Henslowe's papers is an entry, dated
September 3d, 1599, of 40s. advanced to Chettle, Jonson, Dekker, "and
other gentlemen," on account of a tragedy they were engaged upon called
"Robert the Second, King of Scots."
The interest of the "second part" of "Robert Earl of Huntington," on the
whole, is stronger than that of the first part, and some powerful,
though not always tasteful, writing gives effect to the situations. The
death of Robin Hood takes place as early as the end of the first act,
and attention is afterwards directed to the two, otherwise unconnected,
plots of the fate of Lady Bruce and her little son, and of the love of
King John for Matilda. Robert Davenport's Tragedy of "King John and
Matilda," printed in 1655, goes precisely over the same ground, and with
many decided marks of imitation, especially in the conduct of the story.
Davenport's production is inferior in most respects to the earlier work
of Chettle and Munday.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.[257]
KING RICHARD THE FIRST.
PRINCE JOHN, _afterwards King_.
ROBERT, _Earl of Huntington_.
LITTLE JOHN.
SCATHLOCK.
SCARLET.
FRIAR TUCK.
MUCH, _the Clown_.
BISHOP OF ELY.
CHESTER.
SALISBURY.
LEICESTER.
RICHMOND.
FITZWATER.
YOUNG FITZWATER.
WINCHESTER.
BRUCE.
YOUNG BRUCE.
BOY, _son of Lady Bruce_.
OXFORD.
HUBERT.
MOWBRAY.
BONVILLE.
PRIOR OF YORK.
JUSTICE WARMAN.
SIR DONCASTER.
MONK OF BURY.
WILL BRAND.
_Maskers, Messengers, Soldiers, &c_.
QUEEN MOTHER.
QUEEN.
MATILDA.
LADY BRUCE.
ABBESS OF DUNMOW.
THE DEATH OF ROBERT EARL OF HUNTINGTON.
ACT I, SCENE I.
_Enter_ FRIAR TUCK.[258]
FRIAR. Holla, holla, holla! follow, follow, follow!
[_Like noise within_.
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.