KING.  Gramercies, Friar.  Now, Robin Hood,
Sith Robin Hood it needs must be,
I was about to ask before,
If thou didst see the great stag’s fall.

ROB.  H. I did, my lord, I saw it all;
But missing this same prating friar,
And hearing you so much desire
To have the losel’s company,
I went to seek Small-Honesty.

FRIAR.  But you found Much, when you found me.

ROB.  H. Ay, Much my man; but not a jot
Of honesty in thee, God wot.

QUEEN.  Robin, you do abuse the Friar.

FRIAR.  Madam, I dare not call him liar: 
He may be bold with me, he knows. 
How now, Prince John, how goes, how goes
This woodman’s life with you to-day? 
My fellow Woodnet you would be.

JOHN.  I am thy fellow, thou dost see;
And to be plain, as God me save,
So well I like thee, merry knave,
That I thy company must have: 
Nay, and I will.

FRIAR.  Nay, and you shall.

ROB.  H. My lord, you need not fear at all,
But you shall have his company: 
He will be bold, I warrant you.

KING.  Know you, where-e’er a spring is nigh? 
Fain would I drink, I am right dry.

ROB.  H. I have a drink within my bower
Of pleasant taste and sovereign power: 
My reverend uncle gives it me,
To give unto your majesty.

KING.  I would be loth, indeed, being in heat
To drink cold water.  Let us to thy bower.

ROB.  H. Run, Friar, before,
And bid my uncle be in readiness.

FRIAR.  Gone in a trice[276] on such good business.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE III.[277]

Enter MARIAN, with a white apron.

MAR.  What, Much!  What, Jenny!  Much, I say!

MUCH.  What’s the matter, mistress?

MAR.  I pray thee, see the fueller
Suffer the cook to want no wood. 
Good Lord, where is this idle girl? 
Why, Jenny!

JENNY (within).  I come, forsooth.

MAR.  I pray thee, bring the flowers forth.

MUCH.  I’ll go send her, mistress, and help the cooks, if they have any need.

MAR.  Despatch, good Much.  What, Jen, I say!

    Enter JENNY.

MUCH.  Hie ye, hie ye! she calls for life. [Exit MUCH.

MAR.  Indeed, indeed, you do me wrong,
To let me cry, and call so long.

JEN.  Forsooth, I straw’d[278] the dining bowers,
And smooth’d the walks with herbs and flowers. 
The yeomen’s tables I have spread,
Dress’d salts, laid trenchers, set on bread. 
Nay, all is well, I warrant you.

MAR.  You are not well, I promise you,
Your ’foresleeves are not pinn’d; fie, fie! 
And all your head-gear stands awry. 
Give me the flowers.  Go in, for shame,
And quickly see you mend the same.

[Exit JENNY.