JEN. Forsooth, I straw'd[278] the dining bowers, And smooth'd the walks with herbs and flowers. The yeomen's tables I have spread, Dress'd salts, laid trenchers, set on bread. Nay, all is well, I warrant you. MAR. You are not well, I promise you, Your 'foresleeves are not pinn'd; fie, fie! And all your head-gear stands awry. Give me the flowers. Go in, for shame, And quickly see you mend the same. [_Exit_ JENNY. _Enter_ SIR DONCASTER, PRIOR. MARIAN _strewing flowers_. DON. How busy Mistress Marian is! She thinks this is her day of bliss. PRIOR. But it shall be the wofull'st day That ever chanc'd her, if I may. MAR. Why are you two thus in the air? Your wounds are green. Good coz, have care. PRIOR. Thanks for your kindness, gentle maid: My cousin Robert us hath prayed To help him in his business. _Enter_ FRIAR. FRIAR. Sir Doncaster, Sir Doncaster! DON. Holla! FRIAR. I pray you, did you see the Prior? PRIOR. Why, here I am. What wouldst thou. Friar? FRIAR. The king is heated in the chase, And posteth hitherward apace. He told my master he was dry, And he desires ye presently To send the drink whereof ye spake. PRIOR. Come, it is here: haste let us make. [_Exeunt_ DONCASTER, PRIOR, _and_ FRIAR. _Horns blow. Enter_ KING, QUEEN, JOHN, SCARLET, SCATHLOCK, ELY, FITZWATER, SALISBURY, CHESTER. MARIAN _kneels down_. MAR. Most gracious sovereign, welcome once again: Welcome to you and all your princely train. KING. Thanks, lovely hostess; we are homely guests. Where's Robin Hood? he promis'd me some drink. MAR. Your handmaid, Robin, will not then be long: The Friar, indeed, came running to his uncle, Who, with Sir Doncaster, were here with me, And all together went for such a drink. KING. Well, in a better time it could not come, For I am very hot and passing dry. _Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, _with a cup, a towel, leading_ DONCASTER: TUCK _and_ MUCH _pulling the_ PRIOR. ROB. H. Traitor! I'll draw thee out before the king. FRIAR. Come, murderous Prior. MUCH. Come, ye dog's face. KING. Why, how now, Robin? Where's the drink you bring? ROB. H. Lay hold on these! Far be it I should bring your majesty The drink these two prepared for your taste. KING. Why, Robin Hood? be brief and answer me. I am amazed at thy troubled looks. ROB. H. Long will not my ill-looks amaze your grace; I shortly look never to look again. MAR. Never to look! What, will it still be night? If thou look never, day can never be. What ails my Robin? Wherefore dost thou faint? ROB. H. Because I cannot stand: yet now I can. [KING _and_ MARIAN _support him_. Thanks to my king, and thanks to Marian. KING. Robin, be brief, and tell us what hath chanc'd. ROB. H. I must be brief, for I am sure of death, Before a long tale can be half-way told. FITZ. Of death, my son! bright sun of all my joy! Death cannot have the power of[279] virtuous life.