My slips of greenwood. You're much wanted here!
Head, heart and eyes, we are all pent up in walls
Of stone—nothing but walls on every side—
And not a rose to break them—big blind walls,
Neat smooth stone walls! Come in, my ragged robins;
Come in, my jolly minions of the moon,
My straggling hazel-boughs! Hey, bully friar,
Come in, my knotted oak! Ho, little Much,
Come in, my sweet green linnet. Come, my cushats,
Larks, yellow-hammers, fern-owls, Oh, come in,
Come in, my Dian's foresters, and drown us
With may, with blossoming may!
Welcome, welcome, good friends of Huntingdon,
Or Robin Hood, by whatsoever name
You best may love him.
To call him at this bright betrothal feast
My son.
Across our happy gathering, you'll forgive
An old man and a father if he sees
All your glad faces thro' a summer mist
Of sadness.
But I must say a word to all of you
Before she comes.
So startled; but it is no secret here;
For many of you are sharers of his wild
Adventures. Now I hoped an end had come
To these, until another rumour reached me,
This very day, of yet another prank.
You know, you know, how perilous a road
My Marian must ride if Huntingdon
Tramples the forest-laws beneath his heel
And, in the thin disguise of Robin Hood, Succours the Saxon outlaws, makes his house
A refuge for them, lavishes his wealth
To feed their sick and needy.
One of you go—see that the guards are set!
He must not slip us.
Is gold, but this is not an age of gold;
And those who have must keep, or lose the power
Even to help themselves. No—he must doff
His green disguise of Robin Hood for ever,
And wear his natural coat of Huntingdon.
We rise and put our social armour on,
A different mask for every friend; but steel
Always to case our hearts. We are all so wrapped,
So swathed, so muffled in habitual thought
That now I swear we do not know our souls
Or bodies from their winding-sheets; but Custom,
Custom, the great god Custom, all day long
Shovels the dirt upon us where we lie
Buried alive and dreaming that we stand
Upright and royal. Sir, I have great doubts
About this world, doubts if we have the right
To sit down here for this betrothal feast
And gorge ourselves with plenty, when we know
That for the scraps and crumbs which we let fall
And never miss, children would kiss our hands
And women weep in gratitude. Suppose
A man fell wounded at your gates, you'd not Pass on and smile and leave him there to die.
And can a few short miles of distance blind you?
Miles, nay, a furlong is enough to close
The gates of mercy. Must we thrust our hands
Into the wounds before we can believe?
Oh, is our sight so thick and gross? We came,
We saw, we conquered with the Conqueror.
We gave ourselves broad lands; and when our king
Desired a wider hunting ground we set
Hundreds of Saxon homes a-blaze and tossed
Women and children back into the fire
If they but wrung their hands against our will.
And so we made our forest, and its leaves
Were pitiful, more pitiful than man.
They gave our homeless victims the same refuge
And happy hiding place they give the birds
And foxes. Then we made our forest-laws,
And he that dared to hunt, even for food,
Even on the ground where we had burned his hut,
The ground we had drenched with his own kindred's blood,
Poor foolish churl, why, we put out his eyes
With red-hot irons, cut off both his hands,
Torture him with such horrors that ... Christ God,
How can I help but fight against it all?
Everything with four walls, hut, castle, palace,
And turned the whole wide world into a forest,
Drenched us with may, we might be happy then!
With sweet blue wood-smoke curling thro' the boughs,
And just a pigeon's flap to break the silence,
And ferns, of course, there's much to make men happy.
Well, well, the forest conquers at the last!
I saw a thistle in the castle courtyard,
A purple thistle breaking thro' the pavement,
Yesterday; and it's wonderful how soon
Some creepers pick these old grey walls to pieces.
These nunneries and these monasteries now,
They don't spring up like flowers, so I suppose
Old mother Nature wins the race at last.
A hundred ages will not change this earth.
Pouf!
So, if you share your wealth with all the world
Earth will be none the better, and my poor girl
Will suffer for it. Where you got the gold
You have already lavished on the poor
Heaven knows.
Of Sherwood, so do I? That's none so hard
A riddle!
Under the hawthorn bough, and at the foot
Of rainbows, that's where fairies hide their gold.
Cut me a silver penny out of the moon
Next time you're there.
Your quarter-staff?
And only one—patience! When Lion-Heart
Comes home from the Crusade, he will not brook
This blot upon our chivalry. Prince John
Is dangerous to a heart like yours. Beware
Of rousing him. Meanwhile, your troth holds good;
But, till the King comes home from the Crusade
You must not claim your bride.
When the great King comes home from the Crusade!...
Do nothing rash.
They call the poor man's friend?
They told me I should find you here. They told me!
Will Scarlet lies in gaol at Nottingham
For killing deer in Sherwood! Sir, they'll hang him.
He only wanted food for him and me!
They'll kill him, I tell you, they'll kill him. I can't help
Crying it out. He's all I have, all! Save him!
I'll pray for you, I'll ...
Come home from the Crusade? Does not your heart
Fling open wide its gates to welcome him?
Do what seems best.
Mother. I knew Will Scarlet. Better heart
There never beat beneath a leather jerkin.
He loved the forest and the forest loves him;
And if the lads that wear the forest's livery
Of living green should happen to break out
And save Will Scarlet (as on my soul I swear,
Mother, they shall!) why, that's a matter none
Shall answer for to prince, or king, or God,
But you and Robin Hood; and if the judgment
Strike harder upon us than the heavenly smile
Of sunshine thro' the greenwood, may it fall
Upon my head alone.
Thou, Earl of Huntingdon, by virtue of this writ art hereby
attainted and deprived of thine earldom, thy lands and all thy
goods and chattels whatsoever and whereas thou hast at divers
times trespassed against the officers of the king by force of
arms, thou art hereby outlawed and banished the realm.
Of how I shall dispose my wealth, Fitzwalter.
But "banished"?—No! that is beyond their power
While I have power to breathe, unless they banish
The kind old oaks of Sherwood. They may call it
"Outlawed," perhaps.
Thro' doors of mine?
Put up your swords! He had his work to do.
My son?
This poor fantastic strutting show of law!
And you shall wake with us in Sherwood Forest
And find Will Scarlet in your arms again.
Come, cheerly, cheerly, we shall overcome
All this. Hark!
They are setting a trap for thee, drawing their lines
All round the castle.
They have wounded thee! Art hurt?
Only a bloody cockscomb. Come, be swift,
Or, if thou wert a fox, thou'dst never slip
Between 'em. Ah, hear that?
Two sides cut off already. When the third
Sounds—they will have thee, sure as eggs is eggs.
Prince John is there, Fitzwalter cannot save 'ee.
They'll burn the castle down.
Well to my mistress Marian, if these ears
Heard right as I came creeping thro' their lines.
Look well to her, my lord, look well to her.
Come, master, come, for God's sake, come away.
Prince John! Nay, that's too perilous a jest
For even a prince to play with me. Come, Robin,
You must away and quickly.
One word with Marian.
On earth. Come, if you ever wish to see
Her face again.
You'll bring us all to ruin!
This brings you out by Much the Miller's wheel,
Thro' an otter's burrow in the river bank.
Come, quick, or you'll destroy us! Take this lanthorn.
If you're in danger, slip into the stream
And let it carry you down into the heart
Of Sherwood. Come now, quickly, you must go!
To find me. Friar Tuck, bring Widow Scarlet
Thither to-morrow, with a word or two
From Lady Marian!
Henceforth I swear I wash my hands of him!
Until I called you.
Father, where's Robin? Where's Robin?
I had a dream last night—there was a man
That bled to death, because of four grey walls
And a black-hooded nun.
To see—Oh, what a picture! Lady Marian,
Forgive me—coming suddenly out of the dark
And seeing you there, robed in that dazzling white
Above these verdant gentlemen, I feel
Like one that greets the gracious evening star
Thro' a gap in a great wood.
Is aught amiss?
Why are you all so silent? Ah, my good,
My brave Fitzwalter, I most fervently
Trust I am not inopportune.
I am glad that you can jest. I am sadly grieved
And sorely disappointed in that youth
Who has incurred your own displeasure.
Your future son-in-law?
He is outlawed—
Of Huntingdon. His shadow shall not darken
My doors again!
And what does Lady Marian say?
Speaks hastily. I am not so unworthy.
Because he is in trouble—the bravest man
In England since the days of Hereward.
You know why he is outlawed!
As the spoilt child of her old father's dotage.
Give her no heed. She shall not meet with him
On earth again, and till she promise this,
She'll sun herself within the castle garden
And never cross the draw-bridge.
The moat!
Father, you quite forget there is a King;
And, when the King comes home from the Crusade,
Will you forget Prince John and change once more?
Though I be prince, I am vice-gerent too!
Fitzwalter, I would have some private talk
With you and Lady Marian. Bid your guests
Remove a little—
And let them make what cheer they may. Come, friends.
On your behalf as well as on my own!
Listen, you may not know it—I must tell you.
I have watched your beauty growing like a flower,
With—why should I not say it—worship; yes,
Marian, I will not hide it.
Sir, and your bride, your bride, not three months wedded!
You cannot mean ...
You'd be more merciful if you knew all!
D'you think that princes wed to please themselves?
Not to a prince, but to an outlawed man.
I never meant you harm! Indeed, what harm
Could come of this? Is not your father poor?
I'd make him rich! Is not your lover outlawed?
I'd save him from the certain death that waits him.
You say the forest-laws afflict your soul
And his—you say you'd die for their repeal!
Well—I'll repeal them. All the churls in England
Shall bless your name and mix it in their prayers
With heaven itself.
To let me lay the world before your feet,
To let me take this little hand in mine.
Why should I hide my love from you?
I'll hear no more! You are a prince, you say?
To save those churls for whom you say your heart
Bleeds; yet you will not lift your little finger
To save them! And what hinders you?—A breath,
A dream, a golden rule! Can you not break it
For a much greater end?
D'you think that bartering my soul will help
To save another? If there's no way but this,
Then through my lips those suffering hundreds cry,
We choose the suffering. All that is good in them,
All you have left, all you have not destroyed,
Cries out against you: and I'll go to them,
Suffer and toil and love and die with them
Rather than touch your hand. You over-rate
Your power to hurt our souls. You are mistaken!
There is a golden rule!
You take to preaching! I was a fool to worry
Your soul with reason. With hair like yours—it's hopeless!
But Marian—you shall hear me.
Marian, you shall! I love you.
Were I a man and not a helpless girl
You should not live!
See how these murderous words affright your father.
My good Fitzwalter, there's no need to look
So ghastly. For your sake and hers and mine
I have been trying to make your girl forget
The name of Huntingdon. A few short months
At our gay court would blot his memory out!
I promise her a life of dazzling pleasures,
And, in return she flies at me—a tigress—
Clamouring for my blood! Try to persuade her!
The hand of friendship out and you evade it,
The moment I am gone, back comes your outlaw.
You say you have no power with your own child!
Well, then I'll take her back this very night;
Back to the court with me. How do I know
What treasons you are hatching here? I'll take her
As hostage for yourself.
I have sworn to you.
What cause have you to fear?
A hundred other pledges; but not this.
I say that she shall come back to the court
This very night! Ho, there, my men.
This lady back with us.
I say she shall not go!
Begging in rags with outlawed Huntingdon
Than that one finger of yours should soil her glove.
My old white-bearded hypocrite. Come, take her,
Waste no more time. Let not the old fool daunt you
With that great skewer.
Since you will drive me to my last resort,
Break down my walls, and hound me to the forest,
This is the truth! Out of my gates! Ho, help!
A Robin Hood! A Robin Hood!
Who calls on Robin Hood? His men are here
To answer.
So let me counsel you. There's not a lad
Up yonder, but at four-score yards can shoot
A swallow on the wing. They have drunken deep.
I cannot answer but their hands might loose
Their shafts before they know it. Now shall I give
The word? Ready, my lads!
One word, and then I'll take my leave of you!
And they shall be but lightning to the hell
Of my revenge, Fitzwalter. I will not leave
One stone upon another. From this night's work
Shall God Himself not save you.
I have confessed him! Shall I bid 'em shoot?
'Twill save a world of trouble.
Himself will come against me. Follow them out,
Drive them out of my gates, then raise the drawbridge
And let none cross. Oh, I foresaw, foretold!
Robin has wrecked us all!
I cannot lose you now!
Promised to break the walls down. Don't you think
These villains are a sort of ploughshare, lady,
And where they plough, who knows what wheat may spring! The lights are burning low and very low;
So, Lady Marian, let me tell my dream.
There was a forester that bled to death
Because of four grey walls and a black nun
Whose face I could not see—but, oh, beware!
Though I am but your fool, your Shadow-of-a-Leaf,
Dancing before the wild winds of the future,
I feel them thrilling through my tattered wits
Long ere your wisdom feels them. My poor brain
Is like a harp hung in a willow-tree
Swept by the winds of fate. I am but a fool,
But oh, beware of that black-hooded nun.
A cold breath on your face?
Look out and tell me what is happening.
Look, gossip, how the moon comes dancing in.
Ah, they have driven Prince John across the drawbridge.
They are raising it, now!
Tell me quickly, where is Huntingdon hiding?
To pass through your besiegers. If Prince John
Discover it, all is lost. Come, tell me quickly,
Where is Robin?
I am here to save you both.
All will be lost if you delay to tell me
Where I may speak with him. He is in peril.
By dawn Prince John will have five hundred men Beleaguering the castle. You are all ruined
Unless you trust me! Armies will scour the woods
To hunt him down. Even now he may be wounded,
Helpless to save himself.
Take me to him. Here, on this holy cross,
My mother's dying gift, I swear to you
I wish to save him.
I'd go to him! I am helpless, prisoned here.
My father ...
Give me your word that if I can persuade him,
You'll lead me to your lover's hiding place,
And let me speak with him.
Beyond myself. This girl, this foolish girl
Has brought us all to ruin. This Huntingdon,
As I foresaw, foresaw, foretold, foretold,
Has dragged me down with him.
If you will hear me; and you yet may gain
A son in Robin Hood.
I have done with him. I pray you do not jest;
But if you'll use your power to save my lands ...
I was provoked!...
Prince John required this child here—
But you'll forgive him that! I do not wonder
That loveliness like hers—
A father's natural anger. Madam, I swear
I was indeed provoked. But you'll assure him
I've washed my hands of Huntingdon.
His men are, even now, guarding your walls!
Father, you cannot, you shall not—
Who wrapt me in this tangle? Are you bent
On driving me out in my old age to seek
Shelter in caves and woods?
It has not come to that! If you will trust me
All will be well; but I must speak a word
With Robin Hood.
Your daughter knows his hiding place.
To-morrow she shall guide me there. This bird
Being flown, trust me to make your peace with John.
Than loitering here until your roof-tree burns.
I think you know it. Fitzwalter, I can save you,
I swear it on this cross.
There's nought to fear,
If she could—Marian, once, at a court masque,
You wore a page's dress of Lincoln green,
And a green hood that muffled half your face,
I could have sworn 'twas Robin come again—
He was my page, you know—
Wear it to-morrow—go, child, bid your maid
Make ready—we'll set out betimes.
If you will let me, father. He may be wounded!
Father, forgive me. Let me go to him.
When you return.
Trust me, I have some power with Huntingdon.
All shall be as you wish. I'll let her guide me,
But—as for her—she shall not even see him
Unless you wish. Trust me to wind them all
Around my little finger.
Let us within. Madam, I think you are right.
And you'll persuade Prince John?
This holy cross, my mother's dying gift!
For I am only Shadow-of-a-Leaf, the Fool.
ACT II
Scene I. Sherwood Forest: An open glade, showing on the right the mouth of the outlaw's cave. It is about sunset. The giant figure of Little John comes out of the cave, singing.