FITZALE

Or rather the Kings Lieutenant? For we have nothing to say to the King, till we have spoken with my Lord Lieutenant. And Derbyshire, for he is both. And we have business to both sides of him from either of the Counties. Is this he? M r . A-B-Cee Accidence, my good Lord, Schoolmaster of Mansfield, the painful Instructer of our Youth in their Country ele ments, as appears by the sign of correction, in his hat, with the trust of the Towne-Pen-and-Inkehorne, committed to the Sure-tie of his Girdle, from the whole Corporation. Stint, stint, your Court, Grow to be short, Throw by your Clatter, And handle the matter: We come with our Peers, And crave your ears, To present a Wedding, Intended a bedding, Of both the Shires. Father FitZ-ale Hath a Daughter stale In Darby -Town, Known, up, and down For a geat Antiquity: And Pem she hight A solemn Wight As you should meet In any street, In that Ubiquity. Her, he hath brought As having sought By many a draught Of Ale, and Craft; With skill to grafted In some old Stock, OF the Yeoman block, And Forrest-blood, Of old Sherewood. And he hath found Within the ground, At last no Shrimpe, Whereon to imp, His jolly Club, But a bold Stub OF the right wood, A Champion good; Who here in place, Presents himself, Like doughty Elf, Of Greenwood Chase. Stub of Stub-hall, Some do him call; But most do say He's Stub, will stay; To run his raze, Not run away Six Hoods they are, and of the blood, They tell of ancient Robinhood. Here the six Hoods presented themselves severally, in their Livery Hoods, whilst FitZ-ale spoke on. Red-hood the first that does appear Red-hood. In Stamel. Then Green-hood. Next Blew-hood is, and in that hue Blew-hood. Does vaunt a heart as pure, and true As is the Sky; (give him his endue.) Then Tawny from the Kirk that came. Tawney-hood. With Motley-hood, the Man of Law. Motley-hood. Bravely run Red-hood, There was a shock, To have buff'd out the blood From ought but a block. He knows his tackle, and his treene. Well run Tawny, the Abbots Churl His Jade gave him a Jerk, As he woul' have his Rider hurl His Hood after the Kirk. But he was wiser, and well beheft, For this is all, that he hath left. Or the Saddle turned round, or the Girths brake, For low on the ground (will for his sake) The Law is found. Russet ran fast, though he be thrown, With the Fantasies of Hey-troll, Trol about the Bride-all Boll, And divide the broad Bride-Cake Round about the Brides-stake. Grafted upon Stub his Stem, And old Sherewoods Vicety.