Well, my good cause, and my good conscience, boy, Shall be for sons to me, if John prove false.
Men die but once, and the opportunity Of a noble death is not an every-day fortune: It is a gift which noble spirits pray for.
_Simon_.

I would not wrong my brother by surmise; I know him generous, full of gentle qualities, Incapable of base compliances, No prodigal in his nature, but affecting This show of bravery for ambitious ends.
He drinks, for 'tis the humor of the court, And drink may one day wrest the secret from him, And pluck you from your hiding-place in the sequel.
_Sir W_.

Fair death shall be my doom, and foul life his.
Till when, we'll live as free in this green forest, As yonder deer, who roam unfearing treason: Who seem the aborigines of this place, Or Sherwood theirs by tenure.
_Simon_.

'Tis said, that Robert Earl of Huntingdon, Men call'd him Robin Hood, an outlaw bold, With a merry crew of hunters here did haunt, Not sparing the king's venison.

May one believe The antique tale?
_Sir W_.