me speed to save him a labour. O good master,
Justice Shrieve, have you execution in hand, and is there such a
murrain among thieves and hangmen, that you play two parts in one? For
old acquaintance, I will play one part. The knot under the ear, the
knitting to the tree: Good Master Warman, leave that work for me.

WAR. Despatch me, Much, and I will pray for thee.

MUCH. Nay, keep your prayers, nobody sees us.
[_He takes the rope, and offers to climb_.

FITZ. Down, sirrah, down! whither, a knave's name, climb you?

MUCH. A plague on ye for a blind sinksanker![235] would I were your
match. You are much blind, i'faith, can hit so right.

_Enter_ LITTLE JOHN.

LIT. JOHN. What, Master Warman, are ye come to yield
A true account for your false stewardship?

_Enter_ SCARLET _and_ SCATHLOCK.

SCATH. Much, if thou mean'st to get a hundred pound,
Present us to the Shrieve of Nottingham.

MUCH. Mass, I think there was such proclamation.
Come, my small fellow John,
You shall have half, and therefore bring in one.

LIT. JOHN. No, my big fellow, honest Master Much,
Take all unto yourself: I'll be no half.

MUCH. Then stand: you shall be the two thieves, and I'll be the
presenter.
O Master Shrieve of Nottingham,
When ears unto my tidings came,[236]
(I'll speak in prose, I miss this verse vilely) that Scathlock and
Scarlet were arrested by Robin Hood, my master, and Little John, my
fellow, and Much, his servant, and taken from you, Master Shrieve,
being well forward in the hanging way, wherein ye now are (and God keep
ye in the same), and also that you, Master Shrieve, would give any man
in town, city, or country a hundred pound of lawful arrant[237] money
of England, that would bring the same two thieves, being these two; now
I, the said Much, challenge of you the said Shrieve, bringing them, the
same money.

SCAR. Faith, he cannot pay thee, Much.

MUCH. Ay, but while this end is in my hand, and that about his neck,
he is bound to it.

_Enter_ ROBIN, ELY, MARIAN.

WAR. Mock on, mock on: make me your jesting game.
I do deserve much more than this small shame.

ROB. H. Disconsolate and poor dejected man,
Cast from thy neck that shameful sign of death,
And live for me, if thou amend thy life,
As much in favour as thou ever didst.

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