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 dwe