h, my lord, she's honourably resolv'd,
For shame, no more; importune her no more.

RICH. Marian, I see thy virtue, and commend it;
I know my error, seeking thy dishonour,
But the respectless, reasonless command
Of my inflamed love, bids me still try,
And trample under foot all piety;
Yet, for I will not seem too impious,
Too inconsiderate of thy seeming grief,
Vouchsafe to be my mistress: use me kindly.
And I protest I'll strive with all my power,
That lust himself may in his heat devour.

LADY F. You are my servant, then.

RICH. Thanks, sacred mistress.

ROB. What am I?

LADY F. You are my fellow Robert.

_Enter_ FAUCONBRIDGE _in his hose and doublet_.

FAU. What, Prince Richard? noble Huntington?
Welcome, i'faith, welcome! by the morrow mass!
You are come as fitly as my heart can wish.
Prince John this night will be a reveller,
He hath invited me and Marian,
God's marry mother, go along with us,
It's but hard by, close by--at our town-tavern.

RICH. Your tavern?

FAU. O, aye, aye, aye; 'tis his own made match,
I'll make you laugh, I'll make you laugh, i'faith;
Come, come; he's ready. O, come, come away.

LADY F. But where's the princess?

FAU. She is[536] ready too;
Block, Block, my man, must be her waiting-man.
Nay, will ye go? for God's sake, let us go.

RICH. Is the jest so? nay, then, let us away.

ROB. O, 'twill allay his heat, make dead his fire.

FAU. Ye bobb'd me first; ye first gave me my hire,
But come, a God's name, Prince John stays for us.

[_Exeunt_.

ROB. This is the word ever at spendthrifts' feasts,
They are gull'd themselves, and scoff'd at by their guests.

[_Exit_.

SCENE THE THIRTY-SECOND.

_A tavern. Enter_ JOHN, FAUCONBRIDGE, ROBIN
HOOD, RICHARD, _and the others_[537].

JOHN. Baffled and scoff'd! Skink, Gloster, women,
Fools and boys abuse me. I'll be reveng'd.

RICH. Reveng'd? and why, good child?
Old Fauconbridge hath had a worser basting.

FAU. Aye, they have banded [me] from chase to chase;
I have been their tennis-ball, since I did court.

RICH. Come, John, take hand with virtuous Isabel,
And let's unto the court, like loving friends.
Our kingly brother's birth-day's festival
Is forthwith to be kept; thither we'll hie,
And grace with pomp that great solemnity.

JOHN. Whither ye will; I care not, where I go.
If grief will grace it, I'll ador