[Curtains open:—­ROBIN HOOD sleeps on a green bank,
    and MARIAN strewing flowers on him.

And in good time, see where my comfort stands,
And by her lies dejected Huntington. 
Look how my flow’r holds flowers in her hands,
And flings those sweets upon my sleeping son. 
I’ll close mine eyes as if I wanted sight,
That I may see the end of their delight.
               [Goes knocking with his staff.

MAR.  What aged man art thou? or by what chance
Cam’st thou thus far into the wayless wood?

FITZ.  Widow or wife, or maiden if thou be,
Lend me thy hand; thou seest I cannot see: 
Blessing betide thee, little feel’st thou want;
With me, good child, food is both hard and scant. 
These smooth even veins assure me he is kind,
Whate’er he be, my girl, that thee doth find. 
I, poor and old, am reft of all earth’s good,
And desperately am crept into this wood
To seek the poor man’s patron, Robin Hood.

MAR.  And thou art welcome:  welcome, aged man,
Ay, ten times welcome to Maid Marian. 
Sit down, old father, sit, and call me daughter. 
O God, how like he looks to old Fitzwater!
                                     [Runs in.

FITZ.  Is my Matilda call’d Maid Marian? 
I wonder why her name is changed thus.

[MARIAN brings wine, meat.

MAR.  Here’s wine to cheer thy heart; drink, aged man: 
There’s ven’son and a knife, here’s manchet[205] fine: 
Drink, good old man, I pray you, drink more wine. 
My Robin stirs; I must sing him asleep.

ROB.  H. Nay, you have wak’d me, Marian, with your talk. 
What man is that’s come within our walk?

MAR.  An aged man, a silly, sightless man,
Near pin’d with hunger:  see, how fast he eats.

ROB.  H. Much good may’t do him:  never is good meat
Ill-spent on such a stomach.  Father, proface;[206]
To Robin Hood thou art a welcome man.

FITZ.  I thank you, master.  Are you Robin Hood?

ROB.  H. Father, I am.

FITZ.  God give your soul much good
For this good meat Maid Marian hath given me. 
But hear me, master; can you tell me news,
Where fair Matilda is, Fitzwater’s daughter?

ROB.  H. Why, here she is; this Marian is she.

FITZ.  Why did she change her name?

ROB.  H. What’s that to thee?

FITZ.  Yes, I could weep for grief that it is so,
But that my tears are all dried up with woe.

ROB.  H. Why, she is called Maid Marian, honest friend,
Because she lives a spotless maiden life;
And shall, till Robin’s outlaw life have end,
That he may lawfully take her to wife;
Which, if King Richard come, will not be long,
For in his hand is power to right our wrong.

FITZ.  If it be thus, I joy in her name’s change: 
So pure love in these times is very strange.