[_WILL SCARLET goes into the hut with a cry._] SCARLET Mother! FRIAR TUCK You see, My sons, you couldn't expect the lad to run! There is a certain looseness in the limbs, A quaking of the flesh that overcomes The bravest who has felt a hangman's rope Cuddling his neck. ROBIN You judge him by the rope That cuddles your slim waist! Oh, you sweet armful, Sit down and pant! I warrant you were glad To bear him company. FRIAR TUCK I'll not deny it! I am a man of solids. Like the Church, I am founded on a rock. [_He sits down._] ROBIN Solids, i' faith! Sir, it is true he is partly based on beef; He grapples with it squarely; but fluids, too, Have played their part in that cathedral choir He calls his throat. One godless virtue, sir, They seem to have given him. Never a nightingale Gurgles jug! jug! in mellower tones than he When jugs are flowing. Never a thrush can pipe Sweet, sweet, so rarely as, when a pipe of wine Summers his throttle, we'll make him sing to us One of his heathen ditties--_The Malmsey Butt_, Or _Down the Merry Red Lane!_ FRIAR TUCK Oh, ay, you laugh, But, though I cannot run, when I am rested I'll challenge you, Robin, to a game of buffets, One fair, square, stand-up, stand-still, knock-down blow Apiece; you'll need no more. If you not kiss The turf, at my first clout, I will forego Malmsey for ever! ROBIN Friar, I recant; You're champion there. Fists of a common size I will encounter; but not whirling hams Like thine! FRIAR TUCK I knew it! JENNY [_Approaching._] Please you, sirs, all is ready! FRIAR TUCK Ah, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, that's good news! [_WILL SCARLET comes out of the hut with his arm round his mother. They all sit down at the table of turfs. Enter SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF timidly._] SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF Is there a place for me? A FORESTER Ay, come along! FRIAR TUCK Now, Robin, don't forget the grace, my son. ROBIN [_Standing up._] It is our custom, sir, since our repast Is borrowed from the King, to drain one cup To him, and his return from the Crusade, Before we dine. That same wine-bibbing friar Calls it our 'grace'; and constitutes himself Remembrancer--without a cause, for never Have we forgotten, never while bugles ring Thro' Sherwood, shall forget--Outlaws, the King! [_All stand up except the KNIGHT._] CRIES The King and his return from the Crusade! [_They drink and resume their seats._] ROBIN