ROB.  H. It is, it is.

MAR.  Speak not so hollow then: 
So sigh and sadly speak true-sorrowing men.

ROB.  H. Believe me, love, believe me (I beseech),
My first scene tragic is, therefore tragic speech
And accents filling woful action,
I strive to get.  I pray thee, sweet,
Go in, and with thy sight appease
The many doubts that may arise.  That done,
Be thou their usher, bring them to this place,
And thou shalt see me with a lofty verse
Bewitch the hearers’ ears, and tempt their eyes
To gaze upon the action that I use.

MAR.  If it be but a play, I’ll play my part: 
But sure some earnest grief affrights thy[166] heart.

LIT.  JOHN.  Let me entreat ye, madam, not to fear,
For, by the honesty of Little John,
It’s but a tragic scene we have in hand,
Only to fit the humour of the queen,
Who is the chiefest at your troth-plight feast.

MAR.  Then will I fetch her highness and the rest.
          
                                [Exit.

ROB.  H. Ay, that same jealous queen, whose doting age
Envies the choice of my fair Marian,
She hath a hand in this.

LIT.  JOHN.  Well, what of that? 
Now must your honour leave these mourning tunes,
And thus by my areed you shall provide. 
Your plate and jewels I will straight pack up,
And toward Nottingham convey them hence. 
At Rowford, Sowtham, Wortley, Hothersfield,
Of all your cattle money shall be made;
And I at Mansfield will attend your coming,
Where we’ll determine which way’s best to take.

ROB.  H. Well, be it so; a’ God’s name, let it be;
And, if I can, Marian shall come with me.

LIT.  JOHN.  Else care will kill her.  Therefore, if you please,
At th’utmost corner of the garden wall,
Soon in the evening wait for Marian;
And as I go I’ll tell her of the plan.[167]
Your horses at the Bell shall ready be,
I mean Belsavage;[168] whence as citizens,
That mean[169] to ride for pleasure some small way,
You shall set forth.

ROB.  H. Be it as thou dost say. 
Farewell awhile: 
In spite of grief, thy love compels me smile,
But now our audience comes, we must look sad.[170]

    Enter QUEEN ELINOR, MARIAN, SENTLOE, LACY, BROUGHTON,
    WARMAN, Robin’s steward.  As they meet, LITTLE JOHN
    whispers with MARIAN, and exit.

QU.  ELIN.  How now, my Lord of Huntington? 
The mistress of your love, fair Marian,
Tells us your sudden rising from the banquet
Was but a humour which you mean to purge
In some high tragic lines or comic jests.