JOCELYN: Not so, Robin, for hangman dead begetteth hangman new; this
hangman hanged, hangman in his place shall hang men after him. Shall this
hangman hang for hanging as in duty bound, whiles other hangmen, unhanged,
hang still? Here, methinks, is small wisdom, little reason, and less of
justice, Robin.
ROBIN: Beshrew me, brother--but here's so much of hanging hanging on
hanging plaguy hangman that hang me if I get the hang on't--
JOCELYN: Plainly, Robin--wilt hang a man for doing his duty?
ROBIN: Plainly, brother--no. But--
JOCELYN: Then canst not hang this hangman, since hanging his duty is--
ROBIN: Yet 'tis base, vile duty--
JOCELYN: Yet duty it is--wherefore, an there be any justice in the good
greenwood, this hangman unhanged must go.
Now here Robin scowled, and his brawny fellows scowled likewise, and began
to mutter and murmur against Jocelyn, who, leaning back to tree, strummed
his lute and sang:
"O, Life is sweet, but Life is fleet,
O'er quick to go, alack!
And once 'tis spilt, try as thou wilt,
Thou canst not call it back!
"So bethink thee, bold Robin, and, as thou 'rt king o' the wild-wood, be
thou just king and merciful--"
"Now out upon thee, brother!" cried Robin, forgetting to scowl.
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