University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

Robin-hood. Clarion. Lionel. Alken.
Rob.
O', are you here, my Mistresse?

Mar.
I my Love!
Shee seing him, runs to imbrace him. He puts her back.
Where should I be, but in my Robins armes?
The Sphere which I delight in, so to move?

Rob.
What the rude Ranger? and spied Spie? hand off:
You are for no such rusticks.

Mar.
What meanes this,
Thrice worthy Clarion? or wise Alken? know yee?

Rob.
'Las no, not they! a poore sterv'd Muttons carkasse
Would better fit their palat's, then your Venison.

Mar.
What riddle is this! unfold your selfe, deare Robin.

Rob.
You ha' not sent your Venison hence by Scathlock,
To Mother Maudlin?

Mar.
I to Mother Maudlin?
Will Scathlock say so?

Rob.
Nay, wee will all sweare so.
For all did heare it, when you gave the charge so.
Both Clarion, Alken, Lionel, my selfe.

Mar.
Good honest Shep'ards, Masters of your flocks,
Simple, and vertuous men, no others hirelings;
Be not you made to speake against your Conscience,
That which may soile the truth. I send the Venison
Away? by Scathlock? and to mother Maudlin?
I came to shew it here, to Mellifleur,
I doe confesse; but Amies falling ill,
Did put us of it: Since wee imploied our selves
Scathlock, enters.
In comforting of her. O', here he is!
Did I, Sir, bid you beare away the Venison,
To mother Maudlin?

Sca.
I gud faith, Madam,
Did you, and I ha' done it.

Mar.
What ha' you done?

Sca.
Obey'd your hests, Madam; done your Commaunds.

Mar.
Done my Commaunds, dull groome? Fetch it againe
Or kennel with the hounds. Are these the Arts
Robin, you read your rude ones o' the wood,
To countenance your quarrells, and mistakings?
Or are the sports to entertaine your friends
Those formed jealousies? Aske of Mellifleur,
If I were ever from her, here, or Amie,
Since I came in with them; or saw this Scathlock,
Since I related to you his tale, o' the Raven?

Scathlock goes out.
Sca.
I, say you so?

Mel.
Shee never left my side
Since I came in, here, nor I hers.

Cla.
This 's strange!
Our best of Senses were deceiv'd, our eyes, then!

Lio.
And eares too.

Mar.
What you have concluded on,
Make good I pray you.

Am.
O' my heart, my heart!

Mar.
My heart it is, is wounded prettie Amie;
Report not you your greifes: I'll tell for all.

Mel.
Some body is to blame, there is a fault.

Mar.
Try if you can take rest. A little slumber
Will much refresh you (Amie).

Alk.
What's her greif?

Mar.
Shee does not know: and therein shee is happie.