SIR JOHN

Was ever herd (my Lord) the Like till now? That thieves and rebels, S blood heretics, Plain heretics, I'll stand toot to their teeth, Should have to colour, their vile practises, A title of such worth, as Protestant? enter one with a letter. Pay all: this is some luck. What if they do? Theres one they call him Sir John Oldcastle, He has not his name for nought: for Like a castle Does he encompass them within his walls, But till that castle be subverted quite, We never shall be at quiet in the realm. Stand trueman says a thief? Stand thief too. Were you all three upon New Market heath, You should not need strain curtsy who should ha'te, Sir John would quickly rid you of that care. Alas it ignoran e and want, my gracious liege. How now my lord, why stand you discontent? In sooth, me thinks the King hath well decreed. Why then I'll tell you what you're best to do: If you suspect the King will be but cold In reprehending him, send you a process too To serve upon him: so you may be sure To make him answer't, howsoever it fallen. Yea, do so, in the mean space this remains For kind sir John of Wrotham honest Jack. Me thinks the purse of gold the Bishop gave, Made a good show, it had a tempting look, Beshrew me, but my fingers ends do itch To be upon those rudduks: well, 'tis thus: I am not as the world does take me for: If ever wolf were clothed in sheeps coat, Then I am he, old huddle and twang, i'faith, A priest in show, but in plain terms, a that efe, Yet let me tell you too, and honest thief. One that will take it where it may besp. And spend it freely in good fellowship. I have as many shapes as Proteus had, That still when any villainy is done, There may be none suspect it was sir John. Beside, to comfort me, for whats this life, Except the crabbed bitterness thereof Be sweetened now and then with lechery? I have my Doll, my concubine as t'were, To frolic with, a lusty bouncing girl. But while I loiter here the gold, may escape, And that must not be so, it is mine own, Therefore I'll meet him on his way to court, And shrive him of it: there will be the sport. Exit. A good fellow. I must make you find some before we partly, if you have no money you shall have beware, as many found dry blows as your skin can carry. Sirrah no more ado, come, come, give me the money you have, dispatch, I cannot stand all day. How much is there on't of thy word? From whence camest thou? Art thou one of the Kings servants? I am glad thou art no worse, thou mayest the better spare thy money, & thinkest thou thou mightest get a poor thief his pardon if he should have need. Wilt thou do so much for me, when I shall have oc casion? Nay, I am a pitiful thief, all the hurt I do a man, I take but his purse, I'll kill no man. Give me thy hand of the same. Me thinks the King should be good to thieves be cause he has been a thief himself, though I think now he be turned trueman. How? because he once robbed me before I fell to the trade my self, when that foul villainous guts, that led him to all that rogery, was in's company there, that Fall staff. Not I i'faith. Well, if old King Henry had lived, this King that is now, had made thieving the best trade in England. Because he was the chief warden of our compa nigh, it's pity that ere he should have been a King, he was so brave a thief, but sirrah, wilt remember my pardon if need be? Wilt thou? well then because thou shalt go safe, for thou mayest hap (being so early) be met with again, be before thou come to Southwark, if any man when he should bid thee good morrow, bid thee stand, say thou but sir John, and he will let thee pass. Nay sirrah, because I think indeed I shall have some occasion to use thee, & as thou comest oft this way, I may light on thee another time not knowing thee, here, isle break this Angel, take thou half of it, this is a token betwixt thee and me. Oh my fine golden slaves, heres for thee wench i'faith, now Dol, we will revel in our beaver, this is a tyth pig of my vicarage, God have mercy neighbour Shooters hill, you paid your tyth honestly. Well I hear there is a company of re bells up against the King, God together in Ficket field near Holborne, and as it is thought here in Kenned, the King will be there to night in's own person, well isle to the Kings camp, and it shall go hard, but if there be any doings, I'll make some good boot amongst them. exit. Edge you good fellows, take a fresh gamester in. You pass indeed. Zounds what a question's that? I tell thee I have more then all you three, At these ten Angels. I'faith but one, dost wonder how I come by gold? I wonder rather how poor soldiers should have gold, for I'll tell thee good fellow, we have every day tithes, offerings, christenings, weddings, burials: and you poor snakes come seldom to a booty. I'll speak a proud word, I have but one parsonage, Wrootham, 'tis better than the Bishopprick of Ro chester, theres never a hill, heath, nor down in all Kenned, but 'tis in my parish, Barrham down, Chobham down, Gads hill, Wrootham hill, Black heath, Cocks heath, Birchen wood, all pay me tithe, gold quoth a? you pass not for that. Sbloud pay me angel gold, I'll none of your cracked French crowns nor pistolets, Pay me fair angel gold, as I pay you. Thou meanest of French men's crowns, when the King is in France. The devil and all is yours: at that: 'sdeath, what asting is this? Then I'll be hanged. Sirrah, hast thou not given thy soul to the devil for casting? Thou passest all that ere I played withal: Sirrah, dost thou not cog, nor foist, nor slur? Alls gone but that. Why sir, 'tis gold. The devil do you good on't, I am blind, ye have blown me up. Zounds I won't in play, in fair square play of the keeper of Eltham park, and that I will maintain with this poor whinyard, be you two honest men to stand and look upon's, and let's alone, and take neither partly. Soldier beware your sconce. The King! Gods will, I am in a proper pickle. Not so my gracious sovereign, I confess I am a frail man, flesh and blood as other are: but set my imperfecti ons aside, by this light you have not a taller man nor a truer sub iect to the Crown and State, than fit of Wrootham. I must confess I saw some of your gold, but my dread Lord, I am in no humour for death, therefore save my life, God will that sinners live; do not you cause me die, once in their lives the best may go astray, and if the world say true, your self (my liege) have been a thief. So will I do if you will give me time. Vivat Rex & currat lex, my liege, if you have cause of battle, you shall see sir John of Wrootham bestir himself in your quarrel. exeunt. In and out upon occasion, that goes hard. No not to hurt yond for a thousand pound, Come Dol, come, be merry wench, Farewell Kenned, we are not for thee, Be lusty my lass, come for Lancashi e, We must nip the Boung for these crowns. Gone Doll, gone, flown, spent, vanished, the devil, drink and the dice, has devoured all. No Dol, no, isle none of that, Kenned S too hight Doll, Kent's too hight: the weathercock of Wrotham will crow no longer, we have plucked him, he has lost his feathers, I have prunde him bore, left him thrice, is moulted, is moulted, we ̄ changed. Peace Doll, peace, come mad wench, I'll make thee and honest woman, weel into Lancashire to our friends, the troth is, I'll marry thee, we want but a little money to buy us a horse, and to spend by the way, the next sheep that comes shall lose his fleece, weel have these crowns wench I warrant thee: stay, who comes here? some Irish villain me thinks that enter the Irish man with his master slain. has slain a man, and draws him out of the way to rifle him: stand close Doll, weel see the end. The Irish man falls to rifle his master. Alas poe mester, S. Rishard Lee, be saint Patrick is rob and cut thy trote, for dee shame, and die money, and dee gold ring, be me truly is love thee well, but now dow be kill thee, be shit ten kanaue. Sirrah, sirrah, you are a damned rogue, you have kill led a man here, and rifled him of all that he has, sbloud you rogue deliver, or isle not leave you so much as and Irish hair a above your shoulders, you whoreson Irish dog, sirrah untruss presently, come off and dispatch, or by this cross isle fetch your head off as clean as a bark. Avant you rascal, go sirrah, be walking, come Doll the devil laughs, when one thief robs another, come mad wench, weel to saint Albons, and revel in our bower, heigh my brave girl. Trust me, my Lord Bishop, whither Irish, Or English, Harpoole or not Harpoole, that I leave to be decided by the trial: But sure I am this man by face and speech Is he that murdered young sir Richard Lee: I met him presently upon the fact, And that he slew his master for that gold, Those jewels, and that chain I took from him. I thank your Lordship. Yes my good Lords, no sooner had he slain His loving master for dthe wealth he had, But I upon the instant met with him, And what he purchacde with the lose of blood, With strokes I presently bereau'de him of, Some of the which is spent, the rest remaining, I willingly surrender to the hands Of old sir Richard Lee, as being his, Beside my Lord Judge, I greet your honour, With letters from my Lord of Winchester. delivers a letter. O but my Lord, he repents, sir John repents he will mend. I thank your good Lordship. If thou be a good fellow, play the good fellows partly, deliver thy purse without more ado. And fellow, I tell thee that the priest hath gold, gold? sbloud you are but beggarly soldiers to me, I think I have more gold than all you three. Set, set I'll cover you at all: A plague on't I am out, the devil, and dice, and a wench, who will trust them? Stand sirrah, what art thou? Sirrah, what art thou, thou seemest a gentleman? I ask no more. Canst thou blame me Doll, thou art my lands, my goods, my jewels, my wealth, my purse, none walks within xl. miles of London, but a plies thee as truly, as the parish does the poor men box. Doll, if this blade hold, theres not a pedlar walks with a pack, but thou shalt as boldly choose of his wares, as with thy ready money in a Merchants shop, weel have as good sil ver as the King coins any. 'Tis gone Doll, 'tis flown, merely come, merely gone, he comes a horse back that must pay for all, weel have as good meat, as money can get, and as good gowns, as can be bought for gold, be merry wench, the maltman comes on Monday. Come Doll, I'll see thee safe at some alehouse here at Cray, and the next sheep that comes shall leave his fleece. exeunt. No sweet Dol, no, I do not Like that, yond old ruffian is not for the priest, I do not Like a new clark should come in the old bel-frie. Doll, come hither. Hand off, old fornicator. You old stale ruffian, you lion of Cotswold. You old mutton monger. Then I am but as thou hast been in thy days, lets not be ashamed of our trade, the King has been a thief him self. I have wench, here be crowns i'faith. Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow, I am a singer, a drinker, a bencher, a wencher, I can say a mass, and kiss a lass: faith I have a parsonage, and because I would not be at too much charges, this wench serves me for a sexton. Ah sirrah, dost thou not know, that a good fellow parson may have a chapel of ease, where his parish Church is far off?