MARGARET I know not how it is; A cold protector is John grown to me. The mistress, and presumptive wife, of Woodvil Can never stoop so low to supplicate A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs, Which he was bound first to prevent; But which his own neglects have sanction'd rather, Both sanction'd and provok'd: a mark'd neglect, And strangeness fast'ning bitter on his love, His love which long has been upon the wane. For me, I am determined what to do: To leave this house this night, and lukewarm John, And trust for food to the earth and Providence. SANDFORD O lady, have a care Of these indefinite and spleen-bred resolves. You know not half the dangers that attend Upon a life of wand'ring, which your thoughts now, Feeling the swellings of a lofty anger, To your abused fancy, as 'tis likely, Portray without its terrors, painting _lies_ And representments of fallacious liberty-- You know not what it is to leave the roof that shelters you. MARGARET I have thought on every possible event, The dangers and discouragements you speak of, Even till my woman's heart hath ceas'd to fear them, And cowardice grows enamour'd of rare accidents. Nor am I so unfurnish'd, as you think, Of practicable schemes. SANDFORD Now God forbid; think twice of this, dear lady. MARGARET I pray you spare me, Mr. Sandford, And once for all believe, nothing can shake my purpose. SANDFORD But what course have you thought on? MARGARET To seek Sir Walter in the forest of Sherwood. I have letters from young Simon, Acquainting me with all the circumstances Of their concealment, place, and manner of life, And the merry hours they spend in the green haunts Of Sherwood, nigh which place they have ta'en a house In the town of Nottingham, and pass for foreigners, Wearing the dress of Frenchmen.-- All which I have perus'd with so attent And child-like longings, that to my doting ears Two sounds now seem like one, One meaning in two words, Sherwood and Liberty. And, gentle Mr. Sandford, 'Tis you that must provide now The means of my departure, which for safety Must be in boy's apparel. SANDFORD Since you will have it so (My careful age trembles at all may happen) I will engage to furnish you. I have the keys of the wardrobe, and can fit you With garments to your size. I know a suit Of lively Lincoln Green, that shall much grace you In the wear, being glossy fresh, and worn but seldom. Young Stephen Woodvil wore them, while he lived. I have the keys of all this house and passages, And ere day-break will rise and let you forth. What things soe'er you have need of I can furnish you; And will provide a horse and trusty guide, To bear you on your way to Nottingham.