FRIAR. Sir Doncaster, are not we pedlar-like?
DON. Yes, passing fit; and yonder is the bower.
I doubt not we shall have him in our power.
FRIAR. You and your company were best stand close.
DON. What shall the watchword be to bring us forth?
FRIAR. Take it, I pray, though it be much more worth:
When I speak that aloud, be sure I serve
The execution presently on him.
DON. Friar, look to't.
FRIAR. Now, Jenny, to your song. [Sings.
Enter MARIAN, ROBIN.
MAR. Pedlar, what pretty toys have you to sell?
FRIAR. Jenny, unto your mistress show your ware.