Enter Alice, followed by Robin.
Robin. But, mistress Alice, pretty Alice.
Alice. Ugly Robin, I'll not hear a syllable.
Robin. But plague, prithee, Alice, why so coy?
Enter Walter [observing them, stops].
Alice. Master Robin, if you follow me about any longer with your fooleries, my Walter shall know of it.
Robin. A fig for Walter! is he to be mentioned the same day with the dapper Robin? can Walter make sonnets and madrigals, and set them, and sing them? besides, the Indians have eat him by this, I hope.
Walter. Oh, the rascal!
Robin. Come, pretty one, quite alone, no one near, even that blundering Irishman away.
Larry. O you spalpeen! I'll blunder on you anon.