ROB. H. And as ye blew your horns at my son's death, So will I sound your knell with my best breath: [_Sounds his horn_. And here's a blade, that hangeth at my belt, Shall make ye feel in death what my son felt. _Enter_ LITTLE JOHN _and_ MUCH.[188] _Fight: the_ FRIAR, _making as if he helped the_ SHERIFF, _knocks down his men, crying, Keep the king's peace_! RAL. O, they must be hanged, father. ROB. H. Thy master and thyself supply their rooms. Warman, approach me not! tempt not my wrath, For if thou do, thou diest remediless. WAR. It is the outlaw'd Earl of Huntington! Down with him, Friar! O, thou dost mistake![189] Fly, Ralph, we die else! let us raise the shire. [SHERIFF _runs away, and his men_. FRIAR. Farewell. Earl Robert, as I am true friar, I had rather be thy clerk than serve the Prior. ROB. H. A jolly fellow. Scarlet, know'st thou him? SCAR. He is of York, and of St Mary's cloister, There where your greedy uncle is Lord Prior. MUCH. O, murrain on ye! have you two 'scap'd hanging?[190] Hark ye, my lord: these two fellows kept at Barnsdale Seven year to my knowledge, and no man[191]-- ROB. H. Here is no biding, masters: get ye in, Take a short blessing at your mother's hands. Much, bear them company; make Matilda merry: John and myself will follow presently. John, on a sudden thus I am resolv'd-- To keep in Sherwood till the king's return, And being outlaw'd, lead an outlaw's life. (Seven years these brethren, being yeomen's sons, Lived and 'scap'd the malice of their foes.)[192] How think'st thou, Little John, of my intent? LIT. JOHN. I like your honour's purpose exceeding well. ROB. H. Nay, no more honour, I pray thee, Little John; Henceforth I will be called Robin Hood. Matilda shall be my maid Marian. Come, John, friends all, for now begins the game; And after our deserts so grow our fame! [_Exeunt. ACT III., SCENE I. _Enter_ PRINCE JOHN, _and his Lords, with Soldiers_. JOHN. Now is this comet shot into the sea, Or lies like slime upon the sullen earth. Come, he is dead, else should we hear of him. SAL. I know not what to think herein, my lord. FITZ. Ely is not the man I took him for: I am afraid we shall have worse than he. JOHN. Why, good Fitzwater, whence doth spring your fear. FITZ. Him for his pride we justly have suppress'd; But prouder climbers are about to rise. SAL. Name them, Fitzwater: know you any such? JOHN. Fitzwater means not anything, I know; For if he did, his tongue would tell his heart.