Master, you are fevered,
And they can wait.
ROBIN
Yes, yes; but there are some
That cannot wait, that die for want of food,
And then—the Norman gold will come too late,
Too late.
LITTLE JOHN
O master, you must rest.
MARIAN
Oh, help me,
Help me with him. Help me to lead him back.
ROBIN
No! No! You must not touch me! I will rest
When I have seen the prisoners, not before.
LITTLE JOHN
He means it, mistress, better humour him
Or he will break his wound afresh.