SKINK. Robb'd, sir? No, he that comes to rob me shall have a hard match on't, yet two good fellows had like to have been robb'd by one tall thief, had not I stepped in. A bots on him! I lost a hawk by him, and yet I car'd not to send another after him, so I could find the thief; and hereabout he is; I know he is squatted. FAU. Say'st thou me so? we'll find him, by St Mary, An honest fellow, a good commonwealth's man. JOHN. There are caves hereabout, good fellow, are there not? SKINK. Yes, sir; tread the ground, sir, and you shall hear their hollowness; this way, sir, this way. JOHN. Help, Fauconbridge. FAU. O, help me, good Prince John. SKINK. I'll help you both; deliver, sir, deliver! Swounds, linger not. Prince John, put up your purse, or I'll throw poniards down upon your pate. Quickly! when? I am Skink, that 'scap'd ye yesternight, and fled the Fleet in your cloak, carrying me clean out of wind and rain. I broke the bonds and links that fettered your chain amity; this cheat is mine. Farewell, I cannot stay, Sweet Prince, old Knight, I thank ye for this prey. [_Exit_. FAU. God's marry mother, here's a jest indeed. We came to take: a thief takes us! Where are ye, good my lord? JOHN. No matter where; I think I was fore-spoken at the teat, This damn'd rogue serv'd me thus! Gloster and he, Upon my life, conclude in villany. He was not wont to plot these stratagems. Lend me your hand a little; come away, Let's to the cell again; perchance the hermit Is Skink and thief, and hermit, all in one. FAU. Marry a God, then ten to one it's so; Well thought on, Princely John; He had my chain, no doubt he had your sword. JOHN. If there be now no hermit at the cell, I'll swear by all the saints it's none but he. [_Exeunt_. SCENE THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. _Enter_ GLOSTER _in the Hermit's gown, putting on the beard_. GLO. This accident hath hit thy humour, Gloster; From pursuivant I'll turn a hermit now. Sure, he that keeps this cell's a counterfeit, Else what does he here with false hair and beard? Well, howsoe'er it be, I'll seem to be The holy hermit; for such fame there is, Of one accounted reverend on this heath. _Enter_ SKINK. [SKINK.] I'll fain unto my cell, to my fair lady; But John and Fauconbridge are at my heels; [_Sees John_. And some odd mate is got into my gown, And walks devoutly like my counterfeit. I cannot stay to question with you now, I have another gown and all things fit, These guests once rid, new mate, I'll bum,[513] I'll mark you. [_Exit_. GLOS. What's he, a God's name? he is quickly gone. I am for him, were he Robin Goodfellow. Who's yonder, the Prince John and Fauconbridge? I think they haunt me like my genii, One good, the other ill; by the mass, they pry, And look upon me but suspiciously.