ROBIN GOODFELLOW

How now sirrah, what make you here, with all that timber in your neck? Speak man, what art afraid? what makest here? Oh, nay then I see thou art a good fellow Seest thou not Master Churms the Lawer to day? I marry would I. Nay, prithee stay, who wilt thou tell him would speak with him? I, who am I? If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him. Mass, the fellow was afraid, I play the Bugbear wheresoever I come, And make them all afraid, But here comes Master Churms. What, Master Churms? Whats the best news a broad? 'tis long since I see you. A double fee? speakeman, what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, I'll doot for half a fee: And for cunning let me alone. And wherein can I do you good in this? And excellent devise, i'faith. Why this will be sport alone, But what would you have me do in this Actium? Tush man, I have a devise in my head already to do that: But they say his brother Fortunatus loves him dearly. Marry I'll do this; I'll frame and Indictment against Sophos, in manner and form of a Rape, and the next Law day you shall prefer it; that so Lelia may loath him, His Father still deadly hate him, And the young Gallant his brother utterly forsake him. Sounds weel hire some Strumpet or other to be sworn against him. Come hither my honest friend: M. Churms told me you had a suit to me, Whats the matter? My name is Robin Goodfellow. Let me seet, and thou shalt see what I'll say to thee. He gives him money. Well, follow my counsel and I'll warrant thee, I'll give thee a love powder for thy wench, And a kind of Nux vomica in a potion, shall make his come off i'faith. Tush fear not the dodge; I'll rather put on my flashing read nose, and my flaming face, and come wrapped in a Calve skin and cry bo ho: I'll fray the Scholar I warrant thee. But first go to his, try what thou canst do, Perhaps sheele love thee without any further a do, But thou must tell his, thou hast a good stock, some 100. or 200. a year, & that will set his hard I warrant thee. For bith Mass, I was once in good comfort to have cosend a Wench: And wots thou what I told his? I told his I had a hundred pound land a year, in a place where I have not the breadth of my little finger. I promised his to infeoff his in 40. pounds a year of it: & I think of my conscience, if I had had but as good a face as thine, I should have made his have cursed the time that ever she see me. And thus must thou do, crack, and lie, and face, And thou shalt triumph mightily. Barlady so had not I, I was feign to overreach as many times I do. But now experience has taught me so much craft, that I ex cell in cunning. Do so: and let me hear how you speed. Well, a good beginning makes a good end, Heers ten groats for doing nothing, Icon M. Churmes thanks for this, For this was his devise: And therefore I'll go seek him out, and give him a quart of wine, And know of him how he deals with the scholar. I wonder I hear not of Master Churms, I would feign know how he speeds, And what success he has in Lelias love: Well, if he cousin the Scholar of her, Twould make my worship laugh: And if he have her, he may say God a mercy Robin Good fellow. Oh beware a good head as long as you live. Why, Master Gripe he casts beyond the moon, And Churms is the only man, he puts in trust with his daugh ter, and (I'll warrant) the old Churl would take it upon his salvation, that he will persuade her to marry Peter Ploddall: But I'll make a fool of Peter Ploddall, I'll look him ith face and pick his purse, Whilst Churms cousin him of his wench, And my old gandsir Holdfast of his daughter. And if he can do so: I'll teach him a trick to cousin him of his gold too. Now for Sophos, let him wear the willow garland, And play the melancholy Malcontent And pluck his hat down in his sullen eyes, And think on Lelia, in these desert groves: 'Tis enough for him to have her, in his thoughts; Although he never embrace her in his arms. But now, theres a fine devise comes in my head, To scar the Scholar: You shall see, I'll make fine sport with him. They say, that every day he keeps his walk Amongst these woods and melancholy shades, And on the bark of every senseless tree In graves the tenor of his hapless hope. Now when he's at Venus altar at his Orisons; I'll put me on my great carnation nose And wrap me in a rousing Calueskin suit, And come Like some Hob goblin or some devil, Ascended from the griefly pit of hell: And Like a Scarbabe make him take his legs: I'll play the devil, I warrant you. How now Master Churmes, what news abroad? Me think you look very spruce: yare very frolic now a late. Faith I eene came to seek you, to bestow a quart of wine of you. Tush man, one good turn asks another: clear gains man, clear gains: Peter Ploddall shall pay for all: I have gulled him once, And I'll come over him again and again, I warrant you. Oh all the better: then I shall be sure of more of his custom. But what success have you in your suit with his? But do you think you shall get his father's good will? I, and of those that are scarce able to pay, Take the one half and forgive them the other, rather then fit out at all. Oh bith Mass well remembered, I'll tell you what I mean to do, I'll attire my self fit for the same purpose, Like to some hellish Hag or damned fiend, And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods, Oh I shall fray him terribly. Well, lets go drink together; And then I'll go put on my devilish robes, I mean my Christmas Calves skin suit, And then walk to the woods, Oh I'll terrify him I warranty. Now I am clothed in this hellish shape, If I could meet with Sophos in these woods, Oh, he would take me for the Devil himself, I should would good laughing, beside the forty shillings Ploddall has given me: and if I get no more I am sure of that. But soft: now I must try my cunning, for here he sits. The high commander of the damned souls Great Dis the Duke of Devils and Prince of Limbo Lake, High Regent of Acheron, Styx and Phloget By strict command from Pluto, Hels great Monarch, And fair Proserpina the Queen of Hell, By full consent of all the damned Hags And all the fiends that keep the Stygian plains, Hath sent me here from depth of under ground, To summon thee to appear at Pluto's Court. Oh good Sir, I beseech you, I'll do any thing; Oh hold your hands, I am not a Devil by my troth. Oh Lord sir save my life: and I'll say as you say, or any thing else yowl would me do. Oh I will Fit: Although in some places, I bear the title of a scurvy gen tleman: By birth I am a boat writes son of Hull, My father God me of a refused hag, Under the old ruins of Boobies bairn, Who as she lived, at length she likewise died, And for her good deeds went unto the Devil. But, Hell not wont to harbour such a guest, Her fellow fiends do daily make complaint Unto grim Pluto, and his lovely Queen, Of her unruly missebehauiour: Entreating that a passport might be drawn For her to wander till the day of doom, On earth again to vex the minds of men, And swore she was the fittest fiend in Hell To driven men to desperation. To this intent her passport straight was drawn, And in a whirl wind forth of Hell she came; Over hills she hurls, and scowres along the plains: The trees flew up bith roots, the earth did quake for fear, The houses tumble down, she plays the Devil and all: At length not finding any one so fit To effect her devilish damned charge as I: She comes to me, as to her only child, And me her instrument on earth she made, And by that means I learned this devilish trade. Faith Sir, I am in a manner a promoter, Or more fitly termed a promoting knave: I creep into the presence of great men, And under colour of their friendships, Effect such wonders in the world That babes will curse me, that are yet unborn. Of the best men, I raise a common fame, And honest women rob of their good name: Thus daily tumbling-in comes all my thrift. That I get best is God but by a shift: But the chief course of all my life, Is to set discord betwixt man and wife. I little hope for heaven or heaven But if in hell does any place remain, Of more esteem then is another room, I hope, as guerdon for my joust desert, To have it for my detestable acts. A pox of the Scholar. A plague of the vorty shillings, and the Cheese too. How you vex me! powder quotha? Sounds I would been powderd. Faith, the world goes I cannot tell how: How speed you with your wench? I think the scholar be haunted with some Demi devil. Fray him? a vengeance ont all our shifting kna uerie's known: We are counted very vagrants: Sounds, I am afraid of every officer, for whipping. What course shall we take now? Faith agreed: lets go into some place where we are not known, and there set up the art of knavery with the second edition. The devil himself was never conjured so.