Chapter III: Preface (2)

(12) _—“the words of an old writer.”_] The author of the Sloane manuscript; which adds: “after such maner he procured the pynner of Wakefeyld to become one of his company, and a freyr called Muchel [r. Tuck] . . . Scarlock he induced upon this occasion: one day meeting him as he walket solitary & like to a man forlorne, because a mayd to whom he was affyanced was taken from [him] by the violence of her frends, & given to another that was old & welthy, whereupon Robin, understanding when the maryage-day should be, came to the church as a begger, & having his own company not far of, which came in so soone as they hard {xxxiii} the sound of his horne, he tooke the bryde perforce from him that [bare] in hand to have marryed her, & caused the preist to wed her & Scarlocke togeyther.” (See part ii. song 8.) This MS., of which great part is merely the old legend or Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode turned into prose, appears to have been written before the year 1600.

(13) _“In shooting,” &c._] MS. Sloan. Grafton also speaks of our hero’s “excellyng principally in archery or shooting, his manly courage agreeyng thereunto.”

Their archery, indeed, was unparalleled, as both Robin Hood and Little John have frequently shot an arrow a measured mile, or 1760 yards, which it is supposed no one, either before or since, was ever able to do. “Tradition,” says Master Charlton, “informs us that in one of ‘Robin Hood’s’ peregrinations, he, attended by his trusty mate Little John, went to dine [at Whitby Abbey] with the abbot Richard, who, having heard them often famed for their great dexterity in shooting with the long bow, begged them after dinner to shew him a specimen thereof; when, to oblige the abbot, they went up to the top of the abbey, whence each of them shot an arrow, which fell not far from Whitby-laths, but on the contrary side of the lane; and in memorial thereof, a pillar was set up by the abbot in the place where each of the arrows was found, which are yet standing in these our days; that field where the pillar for Robin Hood’s arrow stands being still called Robin Hood’s field, and the other where the pillar for Little John’s arrow is placed, still preserving the name of John’s field. Their distance from Whitby Abbey is more than a measured mile, which seems very far for the flight of an arrow, and is a circumstance that will stagger the faith of many; but as to the credibility of the story, every reader may judge thereof as he thinks proper; only I must here beg leave to observe that these very pillars are mentioned, and the fields called by the aforesaid names, in the old deeds for that ground, now in the possession of Mr. Thomas Watson” (History of Whitby, York, 1779, p. 146).[25] {xxxiv}

Dr. Meredith Hanmer, in his Chronicle of Ireland (p. 179), speaking of Little John, says, “There are memorable acts reported of him, which I hold not for truth, that he would shoot an arrow a mile off and a great deale more; but them,” adds he, “I leave among the lyes of the land.”[26] See Note 39. {xxxv}

(14) “_An outlaw, in those times, being deprived of protection, owed no allegiance,” &c._] Such a character was, doubtless, at the period treated of, in a very critical situation; it being equally as legal and meritorious to hunt down and dispatch him as it was to kill a wolf, the head of which animal he was said to bear. “Item foris facit,” says Bracton (who wrote about the time), “omnia que pacis sunt, quia a tempore quo utlagatus est caput gerit lupinum, ita ut impune ab omnibus interfici possit” (l. 2, c. 35). In the great roll of the exchequer, in the 7th year of King Richard I., is an allowance by writ of two marks to Thomas de Prestwude, for bringing to Westminster the head of William de Elleford, an outlaw. (See Madox’s History of the Exchequer, 136.) Those who received or consorted with a person outlawed were subject to the same punishment. Such was the humane policy of our enlightened ancestors! See Note 21.

(15)

“_――how
. . . . they could discourse
The freezing hours away!_”]

(Cymbeline, act iii. scene 3). The chief subjects of our hero’s conversation are supposed, by a poetical genius of the 16th {xxxvi} century, to have been the commendation of a forest-life and the ingratitude of mankind.

“I have no tales of Robin Hood, though mal-content was he In better daies, first Richard’s daies, and liv’d in woods as we A Tymon of the world; but not devoutly was he soe, And therefore praise I not the man: but for from him did groe Words worth the note, a word or twaine of him ere hence we goe. Those daies begot some mal-contents, the principall of whome A county was, that with a troope of yomandry did rome, Brave archers and deliver men, since nor before so good, Those took from rich to give the poore, and manned Robin Hood. He fed them well, and lodg’d them safe in pleasant caves and bowers, Oft saying to his merry men, What juster life than ours? Here use we tallents that abroad the churles abuse or hide, Their coffers’ excrements, and yeat for common wants denide. We might have sterved for their store, & they have dyc’st our bones, Whose tongues, driftes, harts, intice, meane, melt, as syrens, foxes, stones, Yea even the best that betterd them heard but aloofe our mones. And redily the churles could prie and prate of our amis, Forgetfull of their owne. . . . I did amis, not missing friends that wisht me to amend: I did amend, but missed friends when mine amis had end: My friends therefore shall finde me true, but I will trust no frend. Not one I knewe that wisht me ill, nor any workt me well, To lose, lacke, live, time, frends, in yncke, an hell, an hell, an hell! Then happie we (quoth Robin Hood) in merry Sherwood that dwell.”[27]

It has been conjectured, however, that, in the winter season, our hero and his companions severally quartered themselves in villages or country-houses more or less remote, with persons of whose fidelity they were assured. It is not improbable, at the same time, that they might have tolerably comfortable habitations erected in the woods.

Archery, which our hero and his companions appear to have carried to a state of perfection, continued to be cultivated for some ages after their time, down, indeed, to that of Henry VIII., or about the year 1540, when, owing to the introduction of artillery and matchlock-guns, it became neglected, and the bowmen of Cressy and Agincourt utterly extinct; though it may be still a question whether a body of expert archers would not, even at this day, be superior to an equal {xxxvii} number armed with muskets.[28] The loss sustained from this change by the people at large seems irreparable. Anciently, the use of the bow or bill qualified every man for a soldier; and a body of peasants, led on by a Tyler or a Cade, was not less formidable than any military force that could be raised to oppose them: by which means the people from time to time preserved the very little liberty they had, and which their tyrants were constantly endeavouring to wrest from them. See how the case stands at present: the sovereign, let him be who or what he will (kings have been tyrants, and may be so again), has a standing army, well disciplined and accoutred, while the subjects or people are absolutely defenceless: as much care having been taken, particularly since “the glorious revolution,” to deprive them of arms as was formerly bestowed to enforce their use and practice.[29] The following extract from Hale’s Historia Placitorum Coronæ (i. 118) will serve to show how familiar the bow and arrow was in the 14th century:—“M. 22. E. 3. Rot. 117. coram rege Ebor. This was the case of Henry Vescy, who had been indicted before the sheriff in turno suo . . . of divers felonies, whereupon the sheriff mandavit commissionem suam Henrico de Clyderawe & aliis ad capiendum prædictum H. Vescy, & salvo ducendum usque castrum de Ebor.” Vescy would not submit to an arrest, but fled, and inter fugiendum shot with his bow and arrows at his pursuers, but in the end was killed by Clyderawe: to which may be added a remarkable passage in Harison’s “Description of England” (prefixed to Holinshed’s Chronicle, 1587), to prove how much it had declined in the 16th. “In times past,” says he, “the {xxxviii} cheefe force of England consisted in their long bowes. But now we have in maner generallie given over that kind of artillerie, and for long bowes in deed doo practise to shoot compasse for our pastime; which kind of shooting can never yeeld anie smart stroke, nor beat down our enemies, as our countrymen were woont to doo at everie time of need. Certes the Frenchmen and Rutters,[30] deriding our new archerie in respect of their corslets, will not let, in open skirmish, if anie leisure serve, to turne up their tailes, and crie, Shoote, English; and all because our strong shooting is decaied and laid in bed. But if some of our Englishmen now lived that served King Edward the Third in his warres with France, the breech[31] of such a varlet should have beene nailed to his bum with one arrow, and an other fethered in his bowels, before he should have turned about to see who shot the first” (p. 198). Bishop Latimer, in his sixth sermon before King Edward VI., gives an interesting account how the sons of yeomen were, in his infancy, trained up to the bow. “But now,” says he, “we have taken up whooring in townes, instead of shooting in the fieldes.”

(16)

“_All clad in Lincoln green._”]

This species of cloth is mentioned by Spenser (Faerie Queene, VI. ii. 5):

“All in a woodman’s jacket he was clad
Of Lincolne greene, belay’d with silver lace
And on his head an hood with aglets sprad,
And by his side his hunter’s horne he hanging had.”

It is likewise noticed by our poet himself, in another place:

“Swains in shepherds gray, and gyrles in Lincolne greene.”[32]

See Polyolbion, song xxv., where the marginal note says, “Lincolne anciently dyed the best green in England.” Thus Coventry had formerly the reputation of dying the best blue. {xxxix} See Ray’s Proverbs, p. 178. Kendal green is equally famous, and appears to have been cloth of a similar quality. This colour was adopted by foresters to prevent their being too readily discovered by the deer. See Sir John Wynne’s History of the Guedir Family (Barrington’s Miscellanies), p. 419. Thus the Scotish Highlanders used to wear brown plaids to prevent their being distinguished among the heath. It is needless to observe that green has ever been the favourite dress of an archer, hunter, &c. See Note 34.[33] We now call it a Saxon or grass green:

“His coat is of a Saxon green, his waistcoat’s of a plaid” (O. song).

Lincoln green was well known in France in or before the 13th century. Thus, in an old fabliau, transprosed by M. Le Grand (Fabliaux ou Contes, iv. 13), “Il mit donc son surcot fourré d’écureuil, et sa belle robe d’Estanfort teinte en verd.” Estanfort is Stamford, in Lincolnshire.[34] This cloth is, likewise, often mentioned by the old Scotish poets under the names of Lincum licht, Lincum twyne, &c., and appears to have been in universal request: and yet, notwithstanding this cloud of evidence, Mr. Pinkerton has had the confidence to assert that “no particular cloth was ever made at Lincoln.” (See Ancient Scotish Poems, ii. 430.) But, indeed, this worthy gentleman, as Johnson said of Goldsmith, only stumbles upon truth by accident. {xl}

(17)

“_From wealthy abbots’ chests_,” _&c._]

“But who,” exclaims Dr. Fuller, having cited this passage, “made him a judge? or gave him a commission to take where it might be best spared, and give where it was most wanted?” That same power, one may answer, which authorises kings to take where it can be worst spared, and give it where it is least wanted. Our hero, in this respect, was a knight-errant; and wanted no other commission than that of Justice, whose cause he militated. His power, compared with that of the king of England, was by no means either equally usurped or equally abused: the one reigned over subjects (or slaves) as a master (or tyrant), the other possessed no authority but what was delegated to him by the free suffrage of his adherents, for their general good: and as for the rest, it would be absurd to blame in Robin what we should praise in Richard.[35] The latter, too, warred in remote parts of the world against nations from which neither he nor his subjects had sustained any injury; the former at home against those to whose wealth, avarice, or ambition he might fairly attribute not only his own misfortunes, but the misery of the oppressed and enslaved society he had quitted. In a word, every man who has the power has also the authority to pursue the ends of justice, to regulate the gifts of fortune, by transferring the superfluities of the rich to the necessities of the poor; by relieving the oppressed, and even, when necessary, destroying the oppressor. These are the objects of the social union, and every individual may, and to the utmost of his power should, endeavour to promote them. Had our Robin Hood been, like M’Donald of Barrisdale, a reader of Virgil, he, as well as that gallant chief, might have inscribed on his baldric— {xli}

“Hæ tibi erunt artes; pacis componere mores,
Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.”[36]

(18) “_But it is to be remembered_,” _&c._] The passage from Major’s work, which has been already quoted, is here given entire (except as to a single sentence introduced in another place). “Circa hæc tempora [s. Ricardi I.] ut auguror, Robertus Hudus & Parvus Joannes latrones famatissimi, in nemoribus latuerunt, solum opulentum virorum bona diripientes. Nullum nisi eos invadentem vel resistentem pro suarum rerum tuitione occiderunt. Centum sagittarios ad pugnam aptissimos Robertus latrociniis aluit quos 400 viri fortissimi invadere non audebant. Fæminam nullum opprimi permisit, nec pauperum bona surripuit, verum eos ex abbatum bonis ablatis opipare pavit. Viri rapinam improbo sed latronum omnium humanissimus & princeps erat” (Majoris Britanniæ Historia, Edin. 1740, p. 128).

Stowe, in his Annales, 1592, p. 227, gives an almost literal version of the above passage; Richard Robinson versifies it;[37] and Camden slightly refers to it. {xlii}

(19) —“_has had the honour to be compared to the illustrious Wallace_,” _&c._] In the first volume of Peck’s intended supplement to the Monasticon, consisting of collections for the history of Præmonstratensian monasteries, now in the British Museum, is a very curious riming Latin poem with the following title: “Prioris Alnwicensis de bello Scotico apud Dumbarr, tempore rigis Edwardi I. dictamen sive rithmus Latinus, quo de Willielmo Wallace Scotico illo Robin Whood, plura sed invidiose canit;” and in the margin are the following date and reference:—“22. Julii 1304. 32. E. 1. Regist. Prem. fol. 59. a.” This, it maybe observed, is the first known instance of our hero’s name being mentioned by any writer whatever; and affords a strong and respectable proof of his early popularity.

(20) “_The abbot of St. Mary’s in York._”] “In the year 1088, Alan, Earl of Richmond, founded here a stately abbey for black monks to the honour of St. Olave; but it was afterwards dedicated to the Blessed Virgin by the command of king William Rufus. Its yearly revenues at the suppression amounted to £1550, 7_s._ 9_d._ Dugd., £2850, 1_s._ 5_d._ Speed” (Willis’s Mitred Abbeys, i. 214). The abbots in our hero’s time were—

Robert de Harpsham (el. 1184), ob. 1198. Robert de Longo Campo, ob. 1239. William Rondele, ob. 1244. Tho. de Wharterhille, ob. 1258.

(21) —“_the sheriff of Nottinghamshire._”] Ralph Murdach was sheriff of Derby and Nottinghamshires in the first year of King Richard I., and for the seven years preceding, and William Brewerre in his sixth year, between which and the first no name appears on the roll. See Fuller’s Worthies, &c.

In the year 1195, Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, {xliii} justiciary of all England, sent throughout the kingdom this form of oath: that all men of the realm of England would keep the peace of the lord the king to their power; and that they would neither be thieves nor robbers, nor the receivers of such, nor consent to them in anything; and that when they were able to know such-like malefactors, they would take them to the utmost of their power, and deliver them to the sheriff; who in no wise should be delivered unless by the lord the king or his chief justice; and if unable to take them, they should cause the bailiffs of the lord the king to know who they were: and, cry being raised for pursuing outlaws, robbers, thieves, or their receivers, all should fully do that suit to the utmost of their power, &c. Knights were to be assigned for these purposes, and men chosen and faithful were sent to execute them in every county, who by the oath of true men of the vicinages took many and put them in the king’s prisons; but many, being forewarned, and conscious of evil, left their houses and possessions and fled (_R. de Hoveden_, p. 757).

(22) —“_an anecdote preserved by Fordun_,” _&c._] “De quo eciam quædam commendabilia recitantur, sicut patuit in hoc, quod cum ipse quondam in Barnisdale iram [f. ob iram] regis & fremitum principis, missam, ut solitus erat, devotissime audiret, nec aliqua necessitate volebat interrumpere officium, quadam die cum audiret missam, à quodam vicecomite & ministris regis, sæpius per prius ipsum infestantibus, in illo secretissimo loco nemorali, ubi missæ interfuit, exploratus, venientes ad eum qui de suis hoc perceperunt, ut omni annisu fugeret suggesserunt, qui, ob reverentiam sacramenti, quod tunc devotissime venerabatur, omnino facere recusavit. Sed ceteris suis, ob metum mortis trepidantibus, Robertus tantum confisus in eum, quem coluit reveritus, cum paucissimis, qui tunc forte ei affuerunt, inimicos congressus & eos de facili devicit, et de eorum spoliis ac redemptione ditatus, ministros ecclesiæ & missas semper in majori veneratione semper & de post habere præelegit, attendens quod wlgariter dictum est:

Hunc deus exaudit, qui missam sæpius audit.”

J. De Fordun Scotichronicon, à Hearne, Ox. 1722, p. 774. {xliv}

This passage is found in no other copy of Fordun’s Chronicle than one in the Harleian Library. Its suppression in all the rest may be fairly accounted for on the principle which is presumed to have influenced the conduct of the ancient English historians. See Note 1.

(23) —“_a proclamation was published_,” _&c._] “The king att last,” says the Harleian MS., “sett furth a proclamation to have him apprehended,” &c. Grafton, after having told us that he “practised robberyes,” &c., adds, “The which beyng certefyed to the king, and he beyng greatly offended therewith, caused his proclamation to be made that whosoever would bryng him quicke or dead, the king would geve him a great summe of money, as by the recordes in the Exchequer is to be seene: But of this promise no man enjoyed any benefite. For the sayd Robert Hood, being afterwardes troubled with sicknesse,” &c. (p. 85.) See Note 14.

(24) “_At length the infirmities of old age increasing upon him_,” _&c._] Thus Grafton: “The sayd Robert Hood, beyng troubled with sicknesse, came to a certain nonry in Yorkshire called Bircklies [r. Kircklies], where desiryng to be let blood, he was betrayed and bled to death.” The Sloane MS. says that “[Being] dystempered with could and age, he had great payne in his lymmes, his bloud being corrupted, therefore to be eased of his payne by letting bloud, he repayred to the priores of Kyrkesly, which some say was his aunt, a woman very skylful in physique & surgery; who, perceyving him to be Robyn Hood, & waying howe fel an enimy he was to religious persons, toke reveng of him for her owne howse and all others by letting him bleed to death. It is also sayd that one Sir Roger of Doncaster, bearing grudge to Robyn for some injury, incyted the priores, with whome he was very familiar, in such a maner to dispatch him.” See the Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode, ad finem. The Harleian MS., after mentioning the proclamation “sett furth to have him apprehended,” adds, “At which time it happened he fell sick at a nunnery in Yorkshire called Birkleys [r. Kirkleys]; & desiring there to be let blood, hee was betrayed & made bleed to death.”

Kirkleys, Kirklees, or Kirkleghes, formerly Kuthale, in the {xlv} deanery of Pontefract, and archdeaconry of the West Riding of Yorkshire, was a Cistercian, or, as some say, a Benedictine nunnery, founded, in honour of the Virgin Mary and St. James, by Reynerus Flandrensis in the reign of King Henry II. Its revenues at the dissolution were somewhat about £20, and the site was granted (36 Hen. 8.) to John Tasburgh and Henry Savill, from whom it came to one of the ancestors of Sir George Armytage, Bart., the present possessor. The remains of the building (if any) are very inconsiderable, and its register has been searched after in vain. See Tanner’s Notitia, p. 674. Thoresby’s Ducatus Leodiensis, p. 91. Hearne’s “Account of Several Antiquities in and about the University of Oxford,” at the end of Leland’s Itinerary, vol. ii. p. 128.

In 1706 was discovered, among the ruins of the nunnery, the monument of Elisabeth de Staynton, prioress; but it is not certain that this was the lady from whom our hero experienced such kind assistance. See Thoresby and Hearne ubi supra.

“One may wonder,” says Dr. Fuller, “how he escaped the hand of justice, dying in his bed, for ought is found to the contrary; but it was because he was rather a merry than a mischievous thief (complementing passengers out of their purses), never murdering any but deer, and . . . . ‘feasting’ the vicinage with his vension” (Worthies, p. 320). See the following note.

(25) “_He was interred under some trees at a short distance from the house; a stone being placed over his grave with an inscription to his memory._”] “Kirkley monasterium monialium, ubi Ro: Hood nobilis ille exlex sepultus” (Leland’s Collectanea, i. 54). “Kirkleys Nunnery, in the Woods, whereof Robin Hood’s grave is, is between Halifax and Wakefield upon Calder” (Letter from Jo. Savile to W. Camden, Illus. viro epis. 1691).

“――as Caldor comes along, It chanced she in her course on ‘Kirkley’ cast her eye, Where merry Robin Hood, that honest thief, doth lie.”

(Polyolbion, song 28.)

See also Camden’s Britannia, 1695, p. 709. {xlvi}

In the second volume of Dr. Stukeley’s Itinerarium Curiosum is an engraving of “the prospect of Kirkley’s abby, where Robin Hood dyed, from the footway leading to Heartishead church, at a quarter of a mile distance. A. The New Hall. B. The Gatehouse of the Nunnery. C. The trees among which Robin Hood was buryed. D. The way up the Hill were this was drawn. E. Bradley wood. F. Almondbury hill. G. Castle field. Drawn by Dr. Johnston among his Yorkshire Antiquitys, p. 54 of the drawings. E. Kirkall, sculp.” It makes plate 99 of the above work, but is unnoticed in the letterpress.

According to the Sloane MS., the prioress, after “letting him bleed to death, buryed him under a great stone by the hywayes syde;” which is agreeable to the account in Grafton’s Chronicle, where it is said that, after his death, “the prioresse of the same place caused him to be buried by the highway-side, where he had used to rob and spoyle those that passed that way. And vpon his grave the sayde prioresse did lay a very fayre stone, wherein the names of Robert Hood, William of Goldesborough, and others were graven. And the cause why she buryed him there was, for that the common passengers and travailers, knowyng and seeyng him there buryed, might more safely and without feare take their jorneys that way, which they durst not do in the life of the sayd outlawes. And at eyther ende of the sayde tombe was erected a crosse of stone, which is to be seene there at this present.”

“Near unto ‘Kirklees’ the noted Robin Hood lies buried under a grave-stone that yet remains near the park, but the inscription scarce legible” (Thoresby’s Ducatus Leodiensis, fo. 1715, p. 91). In the Appendix, p. 576, is the following note, with a reference to “page 91:”—

“Amongst the papers of the learned Dr. Gale, late dean of Yorke, was found this epitaph of Robin Hood:

Hear undernead dis laitl stean laiz robert earl of Huntingtun nea arcir ver az hie sa geud an pipl kauld im robin heud {xlvii} sick utlawz az hi an iz men vil england nivr si agen.

obiit 24 [r. 14] kal dekembris 1247.”

The genuineness of this epitaph has been questioned. Dr. Percy, in the first edition of his “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry” (1765), says “It must be confessed this epitaph is suspicious, because in the most ancient poems of Robin Hood there is no mention of this imaginary earldom.” This reason, however, is by no means conclusive, the most ancient poem now extant having no pretension to the antiquity claimed by the epitaph: and indeed the Doctor himself should seem to have afterward had less confidence in it, as, in both the subsequent editions, those words are omitted, and the learned critic merely observes that the epitaph appears to him suspicious. It will be admitted that the bare suspicion of this ingenious writer, whose knowledge and judgment of ancient poetry are so conspicuous and eminent, ought to have considerable weight. As for the present editor’s part, though he does not pretend to say that the language of this epitaph is that of Henry the Third’s time, nor indeed to determine of what age it is, he can perceive nothing in it from whence one should be led to pronounce it spurious, _i.e._ that it was never inscribed on the grave-stone of Robin Hood. That there actually was some inscription upon it in Thoresby’s time, though then scarce legible, is evident from his own words: and it should be remembered as well that the last century was not the era of imposition, as that Dr. Gale was both too good and too learned a man either to be capable of it himself or to be liable to it from others.

That industrious chronologist and topographer, as well as respectable artist and citizen, master Thomas Gent, of York, in his “List of religious houses,” annexed to “The ancient and modern state of” that famous city, 1730, 12mo, p. 234, informs us that he had been told “that his [Robin Hood’s] tombstone, having his effigy thereon, was order’d, not many years ago, by a certain knight to be placed as a harth-stone in his great hall. When it was laid overnight, the next morning it was ‘surprizingly’ removed [on or to] one side; and {xlviii} so three times it was laid, and as successively turned aside. The knight, thinking he had done wrong to have brought it thither, order’d it should be drawn back again; which was performed by a pair of oxen and four horses, when twice the number could scarce do it before. But as this,” adds the sagacious writer, “is a story only, it is left to the reader to judge at pleasure.” N.B.—This is the second instance of a miracle wrought in favour of our hero!

In Gough’s Sepulchral Monuments, p. cviii., is “the figure of the stone over the grave of Robin Hood [in Kirklees park, being a plain stone with a sort of cross fleuree thereon], now broken and much defaced, the inscription illegible. That printed in Thoresby, Ducat. Leod. 576, from Dr. Gale’s papers, was never on it.[38] The late Sir Samuel Armitage owner of the premises, caused the ground under it to be dug a yard deep, and found it had never been disturbed; so that it was probably brought from some other place, and by vulgar tradition ascribed to Robin Hood” (refers to “Mr. Watson’s letter in Antiquary Society minutes”). This is probably the tomb-stone of Elizabeth de Staynton, mentioned in the preceding note.

The old epitaph is, by some anonymous hand, in a work entitled “Sepulchrorum inscriptiones; or a curious collection of 900 of the most remarkable epitaphs,” Westminster, 1727 (vol. ii. p. 73), thus not inelegantly paraphrased:

“Here, underneath this little stone,
Thro’ Death’s assaults, now lieth one,
Known by the name of Robin Hood,
Who was a thief, and archer good;
Full thirteen years, and something more,
He robb’d the rich to feed the poor: {xlix}
Therefore, his grave bedew with tears,
And offer for his soul your prayers.”[39]

(26) —“_various dramatic exhibitions_.”] The earliest of these performances now extant is “The playe of Robyn Hode, very proper to be played in Maye games,” which is inserted in the Appendix to this work, and may probably be as old as the 15th century. That a different play, however, on the same subject has formerly existed, seems pretty certain from a somewhat curious passage in “The famous chronicle of king Edward the first, sirnamed Edward Longshankes,” &c., by George Peele, printed in 1593.

“Lluellen . . . . . weele get the next daie from Brecknocke the booke of Robin Hood, the frier he shall instruct us in his cause, and weele even here . . . wander like irregulers up and down the wildernesse, ile be maister of misrule, ile be Robin Hood that once, cousin ‘Rice,’ thou shalt be little John, and hers frier David, as fit as a die for frier Tucke. Now, my sweet Nel, if you will make up the messe with a good heart for maide Marian, and doe well with Lluellen under the green-woode trees, with as good a wil as in the good townes, why plena est curia.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter Mortimor, solus._

_Mortimor._ . . . . . Maisters, have after gentle Robin Hood, You are not so well accompanied I hope, But if a potter come to plaie his part, Youle give him stripes or welcome good or worse. [_Exit._

_Enter Lluellen, Meredith, frier, Elinor, and their traine. They are all clad in greene, &c. sing, &c. Blyth and bonny, the song ended, Lluellen speaketh._

_Luellen._ Why so, I see, my mates of olde, All were nor lies that Bedlams [beldams] told; Of Robin Hood and little John, Frier Tucke and maide Marian.”

Mortimer, as a potter, afterwards fights the frier with “flailes.”

2. “The downfall of Robert earle of Huntington, afterward {l} called Robin Hood of merrie Sherwodde: with his love to chaste Matilda, the lord Fitzwater’s daughter, afterwardes his faire maide Marian. Acted by the right honourable, the earle of Notingham, lord high admirall of England, his servants. ¶ Imprinted at London, for William Leake, 1601.” 4to, b. l.

3. “The death of Robert, earle of Huntington, otherwise called Robin Hood of merrie Sherwodde: with the lamentable tragedie of chaste Matilda, his faire maid Marian, poysoned at Dunmowe, by king John. Acted, &c. ¶ Imprinted &c. [as above] 1601.” 4to, b. l.

These two plays, usually called the first and second part of Robin Hood, were always, on the authority of Kirkman, falsely ascribed to Thomas Heywood, till Mr. Malone fortunately retrieved the names of the true authors, Anthony Mundy and Henry Chettle.[40] As they seem partly founded on traditions long since forgotten, and refer occasionally to documents not now to be found; at any rate, as they are much older than most of the common ballads upon the subject, and contain some curious and possibly authentic particulars not elsewhere to be met with, the reader will excuse the particularity of the account and length of the extracts here given.

The first part, or downfall of Robert earle of Huntington, is supposed to be performed at the court and command of Henry VIII., the poet Skelton being the dramatist, and {li} acting the part of chorus. The introductory scene commences thus:

“_Enter Sir John Eltam, and knocke at Skelton’s doore._

_Sir John._ Howe, maister Skelton! what, at studie hard?

[_Opens the doore._

_Skel._ Welcome and wisht for, honest Sir John Eltam,— Twill trouble you after your great affairs,

[i.e. _the surveying of certain maps which his majesty had employed him in_;

To take the paine that I intended to intreate you to, About rehearsall of your promis’d play.

_Elt._ Nay, master Skelton; for the king himselfe, As wee were parting, bid mee take great heede Wee faile not of our day: therefore I pray Sende for the rest, that now we may rehearse.

_Skel._ O they are readie all, and drest to play. What part play you?

_Elt._ Why, I play little John, And came of purpose with this greene sute.

_Skel._ Holla, my masters, little John is come.

[_At every doore all the players runne out: some crying_ where? where? _others_, Welcome, Sir John: _among others the boyes and clowne_.

_Skel._ Faith, little Tracy, you are somewhat forward. What, our maid Marian leaping like a lad! If you remember, Robin is your love, Sir Thomas Mantle yonder, not Sir John.

_Clow._ But, master, Sir John is my fellowe, for I am Much the miller’s sonne. Am I not?

_Skel._ I know yee are, sir:— And, gentlemen, since you are thus prepar’d, Goe in, and bring your dumbe scene on the stage. And I, as prologue, purpose to expresse The ground whereon our historie is laied.

[_Exeunt, manet Skelton._

_Trumpets sounde_, [1] _enter first King Richard with drum and auncient, giving Ely a purse and sceptre, his mother and brother John, Chester, Lester, Lacie, others at the king’s appointment, doing reverence. The king goes in: presently Ely ascends the chaire, Chester, John, and the queene part displeasantly._ [2] Enter ROBERT, EARLE OF HUNTINGTON, _leading Marian; followes him Warman, and after Warman, the prior; Warman ever flattering and making curtsie, taking gifts of the prior behinde and his master before. Prince John enters, offereth to take Marian; Queen Elinor enters, offering to pull Robin from her; but they infolde each other, and sit downe within the curteines._ [3] _Warman with the prior, Sir Hugh Lacy, Lord Sentloe, and Sir Gilbert Broghton folde hands, and drawing the curteins, all_ (_but the prior_) _enter, and are kindely received by_ Robin Hoode.”

{lii}

During the exhibition of the second part of the dumb show, Skelton instructs the audience as follows:

“This youth that leads yon virgin by the hand
Is our earle Robert, or your Robin Hoode,
That in those daies was earle of Huntington;
The ill-fac’t miser, brib’d in either hand,
Is Warman, once the steward of his house,
Who, Judas like, betraies his liberall lord,
Into the hands of that relentlesse prior,
Calde Gilbert Hoode, uncle to Huntington.
Those two that seeke to part these lovely friends,
Are Elenor the queene, and John the prince,
She loves earle Robert, he maide Marian,
But vainely; for their deare affect is such,
As only death can sunder their true loves.
Long had they lov’d, and now it is agreed,
This day they must be troth-plight, after wed:
At Huntington’s faire house a feast is helde,
But envie turnes it to a house of teares.
For those false guestes, conspiring with the prior;
To whom earle Robert greatly is in debt,
Meane at the banquet to betray the earle,
Unto a heavie writ of outlawry:
The manner and escape you all shall see.

* * * * *

Looke to your entrance, get you in, Sir John.
My shift is long, for I play Frier Tucke;
Wherein, if Skelton hath but any lucke,
Heele thanke his hearers oft with many a ducke.
For many talk of Robin Hood that never shot in his bowe,
But Skelton writes of Robin Hood what he doth truly knowe.”

After some Skeltonical rimes, and a scene betwixt the prior, the sheriff, and justice Warman, concerning the outlawry, which appears to be proclaimed, and the taking of Earl Huntington at dinner, “Enter Robin Hoode, little John following him; Robin having his napkin on his shoulder, as if hee were sodainly raised from dinner.” He is in a violent rage at being outlawed, and Little John endeavours to pacify him. Marian being distressed at his apparent disorder, he dissembles with her. After she is gone, John thus addresses him:

“Now must your honour leave these mourning tunes,
And thus by my areede you shall provide; {liii}
Your plate and jewels ‘i wil’ straight packe up,
And toward Notingham convey them hence.
At Rowford, Sowtham, Wortley, Hothersfield,
Of all your cattell mony shall be made,
And I at Mansfield will attend your comming;
Where weele determine which waie’s best to take.

_Rob._ Well, be it so; a God’s name, let it be;
And if I can, Marian shall come with mee.

_John._ Else care will kill her; therefore if you please,
At th’ utmost corner of the garden wall,
Soone in the evening waite for Marian,
And as I goe ile tell her of the place.
Your horses at the Bell shall readie bee,
I meane Belsavage,[41] whence, as citizens
That ‘meane’ to ride for pleasure some small way,
You shall set foorth.”

The company now enters, and Robin charges them with the conspiracy, and rates their treacherous proceedings. Little John in attempting to remove the goods is set upon by Warman and the sheriff; and during the fray “Enter Prince John, Ely and the prior, and others.” Little John tells the prince he but defends the box containing his own gettings; upon which his royal highness observes,

“You do the fellow wrong; his goods are his:
You only must extend upon the earles.

_Prior._ That was, my lord, but nowe is Robert Hood,
A simple yeoman as his servants were.”

Ely gives the prior his commission, with directions to make speed, lest “in his country-house all his heards be solde;” and gives Warman a patent “for the high sheriffewick of Nottingham.” After this, “Enter Robin like a citizen; and then the queen and Marian disguised for each other. Robin takes Marian, and leaves the queen to Prince John, who is {liv} so much enraged at the deception that he breaks the head of Ely’s messenger. Sir Hugh, brother to Lord Lacy, and steward to Ely, who had been deeply concerned in Huntington’s ruin, is killed in a brawl by Prince John, whom Ely orders to be arrested; but the prince, producing letters from the king revoking Ely’s appointment, “lifts up his drawne sworde,” and “Exit, cum Lester and Lacy,” in triumph. Then “Enter Robin Hoode, Matilda at one doore, little John and Much the Miller’s sonne at another doore.” After mutual congratulations, Robin asks if it be

“――possible that Warman’s spite Should stretch so farre, that he doth hunt the lives Of bonnie Scarlet, and his brother Scathlock?

_Much._ O, I, sir. Warman came but yesterday to take charge of the jaile at Notingham, and this daie, he saies, he will hang the two outlawes. . . .

_Rob._ Now, by my honour’s hope, . . . He is too blame: say, John, where must they die?

_John._ Yonder’s their mother’s house, and here the tree, Whereon, poore men, they must forgoe their lives; And yonder comes a lazy lozell frier, That is appointed for their confessor, Who, when we brought your monie to their mother’s, Was wishing her to patience for their deaths.”

Here “Enter Frier Tucke;” some conversation passes, and the frier Skeltonizes; after which he departs, saying,

“――let us goe our way, Unto this hanging businesse; would for mee Some rescue or repreeve might set them free.

_Rob._ Heardst thou not, little John, the frier’s speach?

_John._ He seemes like a good fellow, my good lord.

_Rob._ He’s a good fellowe, John, upon my word. Lend me thy horne, and get thee in to Much, And when I blowe this horne, come both and helpe mee.

_John._ Take heed, my lord: the villane Warman knows you, And ten to one he hath a writ against you.

_Rob._ Fear not: below the bridge a poor blind man doth dwell, With him I will change my habit, and disguise, Only be readie when I call for yee, For I will save their lives, if it may bee. . . .

{lv}

_Enter Warman, Scarlet and Scathlock bounde, Frier Tuck as their confessor, officers with halberts._

_War._ Master frier, be briefe, delay no time. Scarlet and Scatlock, never hope for life; Here is the place of execution, And you must answer lawe for what is done.

_Scar._ Well, if there be no remedie, we must: Though it ill seemeth, Warman, thou shouldst bee, So bloodie to pursue our lives thus cruellie.

_Scat._ Our mother sav’d thee from the gallows, Warman, His father did preferre thee to thy lord: One mother had wee both, and both our fathers To thee and to thy father were kinde friends. . . .

_War._ Ye were first outlawes, then ye proved theeves. . . . Both of your fathers were good honest men; Your mother lives their widowe in good fame:[42] But you are scapethrifts, unthrifts, villanes, knaves, And as ye liv’d by shifts, shall die with shame.”

To them enters Ralph, the sheriff’s man, to acquaint him that the carnifex, or executor of the law, had fallen off his “curtall” and was “cripplefied” and rendered incapable of performing his office; so that the sheriff was to become his deputy. The sheriff insists that Ralph shall serve the turn, which he refuses. In the midst of the altercation, “Enter Robin Hoode, like an old man,” who tells the sheriff that the two outlaws had murdered his young son, and undone himself; so that for revenge-sake he desires they may be delivered to him. They denying the charge, “Robin whispers with them,” and with the sheriff’s leave, and his man’s help, unbinds them: then, sounds his horn; and “Enter little John, Much . . . Fight; the frier, making as if he helpt the sheriffe, knockes down his men crying, Keepe the king’s peace. Sheriffe [perceiving that it is “the outlawed earle of Huntington”] runnes away, and his men.” (See the ballad of “Robin Hood rescuing the widow’s sons,” part ii. num. xxiii.) {lvi}

“_Fri._ Farewell, earle Robert, as I am true frier, I had rather be thy clarke then serve the prior.

_Rob._ A jolly fellowe! Scarlet, knowest thou him?

_Scar._ Hee is of Yorke, and of Saint Maries cloister; There where your greedie uncle is lord prior. . . .

_Rob._ Here is no biding, masters; get yee in. . . . John, on a sodaine thus I am resolv’d. To keepe in Sherewoodde tille the king’s returne, And being outlawed, leade an outlawe’s life. . . .

_John._ I like your honour’s purpose exceeding well.

_Rob._ Nay, no more honour, I pray thee, little John; Henceforth I will be called Robin Hoode, Matilda shall be my maid Marian.”

Then follows a scene betwixt old Fitzwater and Prince John, in the course of which the prince, as a reason to induce Fitzwater to recall his daughter Matilda, tells him that she is living in an adulterous state, for that

“—Huntington is excommunicate,
And till his debts be paid, by Rome’s decree,
It is agreed, absolv’d he cannot be;
And that can never be.—So never wife,” &c.

Fitzwater, on this, flies into a passion, and accuses the prince of being already married to “earle Chepstowe’s daughter.” They “fight; John falles.” Then enter the queen, &c., and John sentences Fitzwater to banishment: after which “Enter Scathlocke and Scarlet, winding their hornes at severall doores. To them enter Robin Hoode, Matilda, all in greene . . . Much, little John; all the men with bowes and arrowes.[43]

* * * * *

“_Rob._ Wind once more, jolly huntsmen, all your horns, Whose shrill sound, with the ecchoing wods assist, Shall ring a sad knell for the fearefull deere, Before our feathered shafts, death’s winged darts, Bring sodaine summons for their fatall ends. {lvii}

_Scar._ Its ful seaven years since we were outlawed first, And wealthy Sherewood was our heritage: For all those yeares we raigned uncontrolde, From Barnsdale shrogs to Notingham’s red cliffes. At Blithe and Tickhill were we welcome guests: Good George a Greene at Bradford was our friend, And wanton Wakefield’s pinner lov’d us well.[44] At Barnsley dwels a potter, tough and strong, That never brookt we brethren should have wrong. The nunnes of Farnsfield (pretty nunnes they bee) Gave napkins, shirts, and bands to him and mee. Bateman of Kendall gave us Kendall greene; And Sharpe of Leedes sharpe arrows for us made. At Rotherham dwelt our bowyer, God him blisse, Jackson he hight, his bowes did never misse. This for our goode, our scathe let Scathlocke tell, In merry Mansfield how it once befell.

_Scath._ In merry Mansfield, on a wrestling day, Prizes there were, and yeomen came to play, My brother Scarlet and myselfe were twaine; Many resisted, but it was in vaine, For of them all we wonne the mastery, And the gilt wreathes were given to him and me. There by Sir Doncaster of ‘Hothersfield,’ We were bewraied, beset, and forst to yield; And so borne bound from thence to Notingham, Where we lay doom’d to death till Warman came.”

Some cordial expressions pass between Robin and Matilda. He commands all the yeomen to be cheerful; and orders Little John to read the articles.

“_Joh._ First, no man must presume to call our master, By name of earle, lorde, baron, knight, or squire: But simply by the name of Robin Hoode.―― That faire Matilda henceforth change her name, ‘And’ by maid Marian’s name be only cald. Thirdly, no yeoman following Robin Hoode In Sherewood, shall use widowe, wife, or maid, But by true labour, lustfull thoughts expell. Fourthly, no passenger with whom ye meete, Shall yee let passe till hee with Robin feaste: Except a poast, a carrier, or such folke, As use with foode to serve the market townes. Fiftly, you never shall the poore man wrong. {lviii} Nor spare a priest, a usurer, or a clarke. Lastly, you shall defend with all your power Maids, widowes, orphants, and distressed men.

_All._ All these we vowe to keepe, as we are men.

_Rob._ Then wend ye to the greenewod merrily, And let the light roes bootlesse from yee runne, Marian and I, as soveraigns of your toyles, Will wait, within our bower, your bent bowes spoiles.

[_Exeunt winding their hornes._”

In the next scene, we find Frier Tucke feignedly entering into a conspiracy with the prior and Sir Doncaster to serve an execution on Robin in disguise. Jinny, the widow Scarlet’s daughter, coming in on her way to Sherwood, is persuaded by the frier to accompany him, “disguised in habit like a pedler’s mort.” Fitzwater enters like an old man:—sees Robin sleeping on a green bank, Marian strewing flowers on him; pretends to be blind and hungry, and is regaled by them. In answer to a question why the fair Matilda (Fitzwater’s daughter) had changed her name, Robin tells him it is

“Because she lives a spotlesse maiden life:
And shall, till Robin’s outlawe life have ende,
That he may lawfully take her to wife;
Which, if King Richard come, will not be long.”

“Enter Frier Tucke and Jinny like pedlers singing,” and afterward “Sir Doncaster and others weaponed.” The frier discovers the plot, and a fray ensues. The scene then changes to the court, where the prior is informed of six of his barns being destroyed by fire, and of the different execrations of all ranks upon him, as the undoer of “the good lord Robert, earle of Huntington;” that the convent of St. Mary’s had elected “Olde father Jerome” prior in his place; and lastly, a herald brings his sentence of banishment, which is confirmed by the entrance of the prior. Lester brings an account of the imprisonment of his gallant sovereign, King Richard, by the Duke of Austria, and requires his ransom to be sent. He then introduces a description of his matchless valour in the Holy Land. John not only refuses the ransom-money, but usurps the style of king; upon which Lester grows furious, {lix} and rates the whole company. The following is part of the dialogue:

“_Joh._ (_to Lester_). Darest thou attempt thus proudly in our sight?

_Lest._ What is’t a subject dares, that I dare not?

_Sals._ Dare subjects dare, their soveraigne being by?

_Lest._ O God, that my true soveraigne were ny!

_Qu._ Lester, he is.

_Lest._ Madame, by God, you ly.

_Chest._ Unmanner’d man.

_Lest._ A plague of reverence!”

After this, and more on the same subject, the scene returns to the forest, where Ely, being taken by Much, “like a countryman with a basket,” is examined and detected by Robin, who promises him protection and service. On their departure:

“_Joh._ Skelton, a worde or two beside the play.

_Fri._ Now, Sir John Eltam, what ist you would say?

_John._ Methinks I see no jeasts of Robin Hoode, No merry morices of Frier Tuck, No pleasant skippings up and downe the wodde, No hunting songs, no coursing of the bucke: Pray God this play of ours may have good lucke, And the king’s majestie mislike it not!

_Fri._ And if he doe, what can we doe to that? I promis’d him a play of Robin Hoode, His honorable life, in merry Sherewod; His majestie himselfe survaid the plot, And bad me boldly write it, it was good. For merry jeasts, they have bene showne before As how the frier fell into the well, For love of Jinny, that faire bonny bell: How Greeneleafe rob’d the shrieve of Notingham, And other mirthful matter, full of game.”

“Enter Warman banished.” He laments his fall, and applies to a cousin, on whom he had bestowed large possessions, for relief; but receives nothing, except reproaches for his treachery to his noble master. The jailor of Nottingham, who was indebted to him for his place, refuses him even a scrap of his dog’s meat, and reviles him in the severest terms. Good-wife Tomson, whose husband he had delivered from death, to his great joy, promises him a caudle, but {lx} fetches him a halter,[45] in which he is about to hang himself, but is prevented by Fitzwater, and some of Robin Hood’s men, who crack a number of jokes upon him; Robin puts an end to their mockery, and proffers him comfort and favour. Then enters Frier Tucke, with an account of Sir Doncaster and the prior being stripped and wounded in their way to Bawtrey: Robin, out of love to his uncle, hastens to the place. After this “Enter Prince John, solus, in green, bowe and arrowes.

“_John._ Why this is somewhat like, now may I sing, As did the Wakefield pinder in his note; At Michaelmas commeth my covenant out, My master gives me my fee: Then Robin Ile weare thy Kendall greene, And wend to the greenewodde with thee.”[46]

He assumes the name of Woodnet, and is detected by Scathlocke and Frier Tucke. The prince and Scathlocke fight, Scathelocke grows weary, and the frier takes his place. Marion enters, and perceiving the frier, parts the combatants. Robin enters, and John submits to him. Much enters, running, with information of the approach of “the king and twelve and twenty score of horses.” Robin places his people in order. The trumpets sound, the king and his train enter, a general pardon ensues, and the king confirms the love of Robin and Matilda. Thus the play concludes, Skelton promising the second part, and acquainting the audience of what it should consist.

The second part, or death of Robert earle of Huntington, is a pursuit of the same story. The scene, so far as our hero is concerned, lyes in Sherwood. A few extracts may not be unacceptable. {lxi}

“Sc. iiii. Winde hornes. Enter king, queene, &c. Frier Tuck carrying a stag’s head, dauncing.” The frier has been sent for to read the following incription upon a copper ring round the stag’s neck:

“When Harold Hare-foote raigned king,
About my necke he put this ring.”

The king orders “head, ring, and all” to be sent to Nottingham Castle, to be kept for monuments. Fitzwater tells him he has heard “an olde tale,”

“That Harold, being Goodwin’s sonne of Kent,[47]
Hunted for pleasure once within this wood,
And singled out a faire and stately stagge,
Which, foote to foote, the king in running caught;
And sure this was the stagge.

_King._ It was no doubt.

_Chester._ But some, my lord, affirme, That Julius Cæsar, many years before, Tooke such a stagge, and such a poesie writ.”[48] {lxii}

Upon which his majesty very sagaciously remarks,

“It should not be in Julius Cæsar’s time:
There was no English used in this land
Untill the Saxons came, and this is writ
In Saxon characters.”