Part 7 (1/2)

ROBIN. But, master Larry--

WALTER. Prithee, thou evergreen aspen leaf, thou non-intermittent ague!

why didst along with us?

ROBIN. Why, you know, my master Rolfe desired it; and then you were always railing out on me for chicken-heartedness. I came to shew ye I had valour.

WALTER. But forgetting to bring it with thee, thou wouldst now back for it; well, in the name of Mars, go; return for thy valour, Robin.

ROBIN. What! alone?

LARRY. Arrah! then stay here till it comes to you, and then follow us.

ROBIN. Stay here! O Lord, methinks I feel an arrow sticking in my gizzard already! Hark ye, my sweet master, let us sing.

LARRY. Sing?

ROBIN. Sing; I'm always valiant when I sing. Beseech you, let us chaunt the glee that I dish'd up for us three.

LARRY. It has a spice of your cowardly cookery in it.

WALTER. But since 'tis a provocative to Robin's valour--

LARRY. Go to: give a l.u.s.ty hem, and fall on.

_Glee._

We three, adventurers be, Just come from our own country; We have cross'd thrice a thousand ma, Without a penny of money.

We three, good fellows be, Who wou'd run like the devil from Indians three; We never admir'd their bowmandry; Oh, give us whole skins for our money.

We three, merry men be, Who gaily will chaunt our ancient glee, Though a la.s.s or a gla.s.s, in this wild country, Can't be had, or for love, or for money.

LARRY. Well, how do you feel?

ROBIN. As courageous as, as a--

LARRY. As a wren, little Robin. Are you sure, now, you won't be after fancying every deer that skips by you a divil, and every bush a bear?

ROBIN. I defy the devil; but hav'n't you heard, my masters, how the savages go a hunting, drest out in deer-skin? How could you put one in mind, master Larry? O Lord! that I should come a captain-hunting! the only game we put up is deer that carry scalping knives! or if we beat the bush to start a bold commander, up bolts a b.l.o.o.d.y bear!

[_WALTER and LARRY exchange significant nods._

LARRY. To be sure we're in a parlous case. The forest laws are dev'lish severe here: an they catch us trespa.s.sing upon their hunting ground, we shall pay a neat poll-tax: nothing less than our heads will serve.

ROBIN. Our heads?

WALTER. Yes, faith! they'll soon collect their capitation.

They wear men's heads, sir, hanging at the breast, Instead of jewels; and at either ear, Most commonly, a child's, by way of ear-drop.

ROBIN. Oh! curse their finery! jewels, heads, O Lord!

LARRY. Pshaw man! don't fear. Perhaps they'll only burn us.