MAR.  Welcome, gentlemen: 
’Tis kindly done to come to see us here.

ROB.  This kindness makes me fear my master’s head: 
Such hotspurs must have game, howe’er they get it.

CLIN.  We have a suit to you, Castiliano.

CAS.  What is it, sir? if it lies in me, ’tis done.

CLIN.  Nay, but a trifle, sir, and that is: 
This same young man, by trade apothecary,
Is willing to retain unto your cures.

CAS.  Marry, with all my heart, and welcome too. 
What may I call your name, my honest friend?

HAR.  Ralph Harvey, sir; your neighbour here hard by. 
The Golden Lion is my dwelling-place,
Where what you please shall be with care perform’d.

CAS.  Gramercies, Harvey! welcome, all my friends! 
Let’s in, and handsel our new mansion-house
With a carousing round of Spanish wine. 
Come, cousin Musgrave, you shall be my guest;
My dame, I trow, will welcome you herself.

MAR.  No, boy, Lord Lacy’s wife shall welcome thee.

ROB.  So now the game begins, here’s some cheer toward;
I must be skinker[454] then:  let me alone;
They all shall want, ere Robin shall have none.

[Exeunt omnes nisi CLINTON and HARVEY.

CLIN.  Sirrah Ralph Harvey, now the entry is made,
Thou only hast access without suspect.[455]
Be not forgetful of thy agent here;
Remember Clinton was the man that did it.

HAR.  Why, captain, now you talk in jealousy. 
Do not misconstrue my true-meaning heart.

CLIN.  Ralph, I believe thee, and rely on thee. 
Do not too long absent thee from the doctor: 
Go in, carouse, and taint his Spanish brain;
I’ll follow, and my Marian’s health maintain.

HAR.  Captain, you well advise me; I’ll go in,
And for myself my love-suits I’ll begin.

[Exeunt.

ACT III., SCENE I.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW with his head broken.

ROB.  The devil himself take all such dames for me! 
’Zounds, I had rather be in hell than here. 
Nay, let him be his own man, if he list,
Robin means not to stay to be us’d thus. 
The very first day, in her angry spleen,
Her nimble hand began to greet my ears
With such unkind salutes as I ne’er felt;
And since that time there hath not pass’d an hour,
Wherein she hath not either rail’d upon me,
Or laid her anger’s load upon my limbs. 
Even now (for no occasion in the world,
But as it pleas’d her ladyship to take it)
She gat me up a staff, and breaks my head. 
But I’ll no longer serve so curs’d a dame;
I’ll run as far first as my legs will bear me. 
What shall I do? to hell I dare not go,
Until my master’s twelve months be expir’d,
And here to stay with Mistress Marian—­
Better to be so long in purgatory. 
Now, farewell, master! but, shrewd dame, fare-ill! 
I’ll leave you, though the devil is with you still.
                                      [Exit ROBIN.