ma,
Without a penny of money.

We three, good fellows be,
Who wou'd run like the devil from Indians three;
We never admir'd their bowmandry;
Oh, give us whole skins for our money.

We three, merry men be,
Who gaily will chaunt our ancient glee,
Though a lass or a glass, in this wild country,
Can't be had, or for love, or for money.

LARRY. Well, how do you feel?

ROBIN. As courageous as, as a--

LARRY. As a wren, little Robin. Are you sure, now, you won't be after
fancying every deer that skips by you a divil, and every bush a bear?

ROBIN. I defy the devil; but hav'n't you heard, my masters, how the
savages go a hunting, drest out in deer-skin? How could you put one in
mind, master Larry? O Lord! that I should come a captain-hunting! the only
game we put up is deer that carry scalping knives! or if we beat the bush
to start a bold commander, up bolts a bloody bear!

[_WALTER and LARRY exchange significant nods._

LARRY. To be sure we're in a parlous case. The forest laws are dev'lish
severe here: an they catch us trespassing upon their hunting ground, we
shall pay a neat poll-tax: nothing less than our heads will serve.

ROBIN. Our heads?

WALTER. Yes, faith! they'll soon collect their capitation.
They wear men's heads, sir, hanging at the breast,
Instead of jewels; and at either ear,
Most commonly, a child's, by way of ear-drop.

ROBIN. Oh! curse their finery! jewels, heads, O Lord!

LARRY. Pshaw man! don't fear. Perhaps they'll only burn us.
What a delicate roasted Robin you wou'd make!
Troth! they'd so lick their lips!

ROBIN. A roasted robin!--

WALTER. Tut! if they only burn us, 'twill be brave.
Robin shall make our death-songs.

ROBIN. Death-songs, oh!
[_ROBIN stands motionless with fear._

LARRY. By the good looking right eye of Saint Patrick,
There's Rolfe and Percy, with a tribe of Indians. [_Looking out._

ROBIN. Indians! they're pris'ners, and we--we're dead men!

[_While WALTER and LARRY exeunt, ROBIN gets up into a tree._]

O Walter, Larry! ha! what gone, all gone!
Poor Robin, what is to become of thee?

_Enter SMITH, POCAHONTAS, NANTAQUAS, PERCY, ROLFE, NIMA and INDIANS,
LARRY and WALTER._

SMITH. At hazard of her own dear life she saved me.
E'en the warm friendship of the prince had fail'd,
And death, inevitable death,