University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

THE ANCIENT CITY OF NOTTINGHAM BY MOONLIGHT AND F. HOLDING. From unknown designs of the period.
Enter Tup-yed, Verjuice, Sniffle, Muddle, and certain of the Watch.
Tup-yed.
Aye, marry, aye; I know a thing or two.
Do what I tell you, masters, and—you'll do.
What time is't?

Verjuice.
Nearly twelve.

Tup-yed.
Well, that's quite right.
It's cold; and I've got mully-grubs to-night.
All here?

Sniffle.
Yes, sir.

Tup-yed.
Hollo! what's that you said?

Sniffle.
Master; I've got a bad cold in my head.

Tup-yed.
Then, tallow your nose, old boy, and get to bed.
Now; are you sober?

Muddle.
Middling.

Tup-yed.
That'll do.
It's quite as much as I expect from you.
Middling's the best, they say, for mortal elf.
I'm only in a middling way myself.
Creep to this corner; it's a bitter night;
But, first, toot round, and see if all is right.

Verjuice.
Except the cold wind, Tup-yed, all seems still.

Tup-yed.
Then come out of the wind, and hearken Tup-yed's will;
Now, masters, listen what I've got to say:
Watch well; and mind you do not miss your prey.

Verjuice.
Don't talk so much; but, if you do,—talk low;
And, if you chance to walk,—walk very slow.

Tup-yed.
Poachers are out; so, nab 'em, if they tease you.

Verjuice.
But, mind they're little uns, or they'll happen seize you.

Tup-yed.
As for these Sherwood men,—thus you must treat 'em,—
Bolt, when you see 'em, for you cannot beat 'em.
But, peep in slyly where folks sit at supper;
And,—if they'll not share it,—down upon their crupper;
For, if they're eating barn-door fowl, or Cochin,
Welch rabbits, or poached eggs;—

Verjuice.
That's poachin'!

Tup-yed.
If any rascal takes the midnight air,
'Od rabbit it, take him! The game's quite fair.
Game laws, like game, are neither here nor there;
The first's a delusion, and the last a snare.
These varlets of the town,—if crusty, scout 'em;
If big uns,—cut 'em.

Verjuice.
And, if little uns?

Tup-yed.
Clout 'em.
If you should meet a man that's drunk,—why, stop him.
If he'll not stand,—then rap his nut,—and drop him.

Muddle.
How if it chance to be a cove we know?

Tup-yed.
Call it rheumatic, then,—and let him go.
If, in the streets, you hear a wild uproar,
Slip down a entry till the row gets o'er;
Then, staff in hand, rush out, like any Turk,
And larrup a lad or two,—it looks like work.

Verjuice.
If rain comes on, now,—it were quite as well
To tap at some quiet tap, and get a gill.

Tup-yed.
So, go your ways; and don't you get too boozy.
Good night! Be quiet! I feel a little drowsy.

Enter Tremuloso in a tremendous trepidation.
Trem.
I say! Look out for squalls! The sheriff's here!
There's something on his mind that's mortal queer!
He's kicked me into fits! I'm nearly melted!
He's coming down full pelt, and you'll get pelted!
My hair starts up at his outrageous lingo.
He'll dust your jackets, by the living Jingo!
He's in a ripping rage! There's nought to match it!
O crickey! Here he comes! By Jove, youll catch it!
Stand back; and give him room. Now for a spree!
I'd better hide; or else he'll perhaps hide me.

Enter Sir Brian de Bull-beef, his Daughter, Daisy de Bull-beef, and their Attendants.
Sir Brian de Bull-beef.
Where's this town-watch? Where's Tup-yed?

Trem.
Now, he'll nap it.

Sir Brian.
Bring Tup-yed's nob; my fingers itch to rap it.

Trem.
I thought so.

Sir Brian.
You be blowed.

Trem.
I've had my share.

Sir Brian.
Stand back, you flimsy wretch. I'll comb your hair.
Watchmen! They're turnips! And I'm bent on potting 'em.
Was ever town worse watched than poor old Nottingham?
Like watches, they all go on tick,—none quicker.

Daisy de Bull-beef.
But, they're not half so fond of watching as of liquor.

Sir Brian.
Tup-yed; you like a tap. Try that.

Tup-yed.
Oh—Oh!

Sir Brian.
Oh—Oh! Was ever table rapped that answered so?

Slip-slop.
Hit him again; he owes me twopence.

Sir Brian.
Does he?
Then,—here's twopenn'oth more! The knave looks muzzy.
You watch a town! Why Nottingham's invaded!
By Robin Hood's men we're o'er-run and raided.
There's nothing dear that's safe. Our men get routed;
Our does get nobbled, and our bucks get clouted.

Daisy.
And, as for watch,—you might as well be spouted.

Sir Brian.
There's nought too small; there's nought too hot or heavy;
And, they ll leave nought, if we don't stop this levy.

Daisy.
All's right to them,—priest, poultry, pig, or pigeon.

Sir Brian.
They care as much for rabbits as religion.

Daisy.
They nab the clergy, and they strip and beat 'em.

Sir Brian.
They've stolen my cattle; and, no doubt, they'll eat 'em.

Daisy.
And, t'other day, at noon, as I'm a sinner,
The rascals ducked our cook, and ate my dinner.

Sir Brian.
Tup-yed,—you knave,—of tups you are a topper!
Come here! I'll give that pipe of yours a stopper!
So, nap no more; or else, you'll nap it handsome.

Slip-slop.
Maister; aw've clogs on. Mun aw goo an' punce 'em?
Aw'll wakken 'em,—yo'n see. Aw will, for sure.
Aw'll warm their shins a bit!

Sir Brian.
Get out you boor!
Catch me this Sherwood knave, and dust his jacket;
If not, there's not a nut here, but I'll crack it.
This jack-a-dandy of the woods,—called Robin Hood!
This forest buck! This beau! I'll have his blood!
I'll make a bonfire of his bows and arrows;
And hang the rascal up to frighten sparrows!

Daisy.
Oh, pa! Dear Robin Hood!

Sir Brian.
Oh, stuff!
I've been hood-winked too long, you little muff!

Daisy.
Nay, pa, dear; don't be angry at poor Robin!

Sir Brian.
Pa-a! Pshaw! Get home, you jade, and mind your bobbin!

Daisy.
Pa, dear; I'm shocked to hear how you do carry on.
Leave him to me; and pitch into Miss Marian!

Slip-slop.
Thi feyther says thae munnot be a foo!

Daisy.
Get out; you saucy lout! Who spoke to you?
Do, spiflicate Miss Marian! Pa, dear, do!

Sir Brian.
Silence, you minx! I'll shoot him, roast him, baste him!

Daisy.
You'll cook his goose! And I shall never taste him!

Sir Brian.
So, sleep no more, you knave,—but go and do it;
And do it soon,—or else you soon shall rue it.
But, hold! My bow has got another string!
This business shall be laid before the king.

Exit Omnes with the new intention.