FOR.  Nay, Marian, we’ll not leave these sights unseen;
And then we’ll see your orchard and your fruit,
For now there hang queen apples on the trees,
And one of them is[459] worth a score of these.

MAR.  Well, you shall see them, lest you lose your longing.
                           [Exeunt MARIAN and FORREST.

CAS.  Nay, if ye fall a longing for green fruit,
Child-bearing is not far off, I am sure. 
Why, this is excellent:  I feel the buds! 
My head groweth hard:  my horns will shortly spring! 
Now, who may lead the cuckold’s dance but I,
That am become the headman of the parish? 
O, this it is to have an honest wife,
Of whom so much I boasted once to-day. 
Come hither, minx! you know your mistress’ mind,
And you keep secret all her villanies: 
Tell me, you were best, where was this plot devised? 
How did these villains know I was abroad?

NAN.  Indeed, forsooth, I know[460] not when it was. 
My mistress call’d me from my work of late,
And bad me lay a napkin:  so I did,
And made this banquet ready; but in truth
I knew not what she did intend to do.

CAS.  No, no, you did not watch against I came,
To give her warning to despatch her knaves! 
You cried not out when as you saw me come! 
All this is nothing; but I’ll trounce you all.

NAN.  In truth, good master!

Enter MARIAN, FORREST.

CAS.  Peace, stay! they come. 
Whimper not; and you do, I’ll use you worse. 
Behold that wicked strumpet with that knave! 
O, that I had a pistol for their sakes,
That at one shot I might despatch them both! 
But I must stand close yet, and see the rest.
                       [He conceals himself again.]

MAR.  How lik’st thou, Miles, my orchard and my house?

FOR.  Well; thou art seated to thy heart’s content,
A pleasant orchard and a house well-furnish’d: 
There nothing wants; but in the gallery
The painter shows his art exceedingly.

MAR.  Yet is there one thing goeth beyond all these: 
Contented life, that giveth the heart his ease,
And that I want. [One knocketh at the door.

FOR.  Sweet love, adieu. [Exit FORREST.

MAR.  Farewell, sweetheart.  Who is that at the door?

    Enter CLINTON.

CLIN.  A friend.

MAR.  Come near:  what, captain, is it you?

CLIN.  Even I, fair Marian, watching carefully
The blessed step of opportunity.

MAR.  Good, good! how fortune gluts me with excess! 
Still they that have enough shall meet with more.

CLIN.  But where’s the doctor?

MAR.  Ministering abroad
Physic to some sick patients he retains.

CLIN.  Let him abroad, I’ll minister at home
Such physic shall content my Marian.

CAS.  O monstrous! now the world must see my shame. 
This head must bear whatever likes[461] my dame. [Aside.]