_1 Rob._ The better fortune his. Few fat friars, I fancy, have the luck to be saved. What did he yield? 2 Rob. _The rope from his middle, a bottle of sack from his bosom, and a link of hog's puddings, pulled out of his left sleeve._ _1 Rob._ Gad a mercy, friar! For the sack, and the sausages, they shall be shared, merrily, among us; and for the rope,--hum!--come, we won't think of that, now. [_A Horn wound lowly._] Hark! there's our Captain's horn!--'faith, for one who, I suspect is married, he chuses an odd signal of approach. _2 Rob._ Nay, though he may be married, he's no milksop; and, I warrant him, when he's on duty, and robbing among us, he quite forgets his wife, as an honest man should do. He has joined us but a short time, yet, egad, he heads us nobly! He'll pluck you an hundred crowns from a rich fellow's pocket, with one hand, and throw his share of them into a hungry beggar's hat, with the other. But, here he comes. _Enter GONDIBERT._ _All._ Hail, noble Captain! _Gondi._ How now, my bold and rugged companions! What has been done in my absence? _1 Rob._ Oh, sir, a deal of business--We have been washing down old scores, and getting vigour for new. We have had a cup for every breach of the law we have committed. Marry, sir, ours is a rare cellar, to stand such a soaking. _Gondi._ Now then, to a business of greater import. I have been lurking round the camp, here, on the skirts of the forest. The parties have met, and a hot battle ensued. It was a long time fought with such stubborn courage, that, as I stood observing it, the spirit of war, pent up within me, had well nigh burst my breast.--Twenty times, I was at the point of breaking from my shelter, and joining combat. But I am pledged to you, my fellows;--that thought restrained me. _2 Rob._ O, noble Captain!--but who has conquered? _Gondi._ Ay, there it is:--'sdeath and fury, my blood boiled to see it! The sleek, upstart rascals, cut through the ranks as if--oh! a plague on their well feeding!--We had carried it else, all the world to nothing! _2 Rob._ We! why what is it to us who has the day? Do but tell us who. _Gondi._ I had forgot. The Lancasters are defeated, their soldiers routed, and many of their leaders dispersed about the country. Some, no doubt, are in the forest. Usurping war never glutted on a richer banquet. _1 Rob._ Why, it seems to have been a pretty feast; and, the best on't is, now 'tis over, we shall come in for the picking of the bones. _Gondi._ It may be so. You all, I know, will expect a rich booty; and they whom we shall meet will, probably, from the unsettled nature of the times, bear their whole wealth about their persons:--but they are brave, and have been oppressed;--disappointment, therefore, and their situation, may cause them to fight in their defence, like heros. _2 Rob._ Nay, an they fight like devils, they'll find we can match them in courage. Put me to any proof you please, and they shall soon find me a man.