JUSTICE WARMAN.

WARMAN'S COUSIN.

The ill-faced miser, bribed in either hand, Is Warman, once the steward of his house, Who,

Enter, as it were in haste, the PRIOR OF YORK, the SHERIFF, Justice WARMAN, Steward to ROBIN HOOD.

Here, Master Warman, there's a hundred crowns For your good-will and futherance in this.

[Exit WARMAN.

Enter QUEEN ELINOR, MARIAN, SENTLOE, LACY, BROUGHTON, WARMAN, Robin's steward.

H. Sit down, fair queen (the prologue's part is play'd; Marian hath told ye, what I bad her tell): Sit down, Lord Sentloe, cousin Lacy, sit: Sir Gilbert Broughton, yea, and Warman, sit: Though you my steward be, yet for your gathering wit I give you place: sit down, sit down, I say: God's pity!

Here's Justice Warman, steward to your lord, Suspects some coin, some jewels, or some plate That 'longs unto your lord, are in your trunks,

I cry your worship mercy, Mistress Warman: The squire, your husband, was his servant once.

But, Master Warman, you have loaded carts, And turned my lord's goods to your proper use.

Well, Warman, this proud priest I cannot brook.

H. Earl John and Warman, two good friends of mine: I think they knew me not, or if they did I care not what can follow.

get you gone, Sir Hugh; Provoke him not, for he hath told you true: You know it, that I know the Prior of York, Together with my good lord chancellor, Corrupted you, Lord Sentloe, Broughton, Warman, To feast with Robert on his day of fall.

Warman himself, That creeping Judas, joy'd, and told it me. LACY.

And is it possible that Warman's spite Should stretch so far, that he doth hunt the lives Of bonny Scarlet and his brother Scathlock.

O, ay, sir: Warman came but yesterday to take charge of the jail at Nottingham, and this day he says he will hang the two outlaws.

Enter WARMAN, SCARLET, and SCATHLOCK, bound; FRIAR TUCK as their confessor; officers with halberts.

Well, if there be no remedy, we must: Though it ill-seemeth, Warman, thou should'st be So bloody to pursue our lives thus cruelly.

Our mother sav'd thee fro the gallows, Warman: His father did prefer thee to thy lord.

Warman, good words, for all your bitter deeds: Ill-speech to wretched men is more than needs.

Warman, approach me not!

From shrieve to shrieve send him to Nottingham, Where Warman, by our patent, is high shrieve.

There by Sir Doncaster of Hothersfield We were bewray'd, beset, and forc'd to yield, And so borne bound from thence to Nottingham, Where we lay doom'd to death till Warman came.

The artist's name (Simon Warman) and the date of his work (1560) are engraved at the W. end of the N. aisle.