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_ ACT V - SCENE I
[Morning. Sherwood Forest (as before). LITTLE JOHN and some of
the OUTLAWS are gathered together talking. Occasionally they look
anxiously toward the cave and at the approaches through the wood. Enter
two FORESTERS, running and breathless.]
FIRST FORESTER.
The King's men! They are scouring thro' the wood,
Two troops of them, five hundred men in each
And more are following.
SECOND FORESTER.
We must away from here
And quickly.
LITTLE JOHN.
Where did you sight them?
SECOND FORESTER.
From the old elm,
Our watch-tower. They were not five miles away!
FIRST FORESTER.
Five, about five. We saw the sunlight flash
Along, at least five hundred men at arms;
And, to the north, along another line,
Bigger, I think; but not so near.
SECOND FORESTER.
Where's Robin?
We must away at once!
FIRST FORESTER.
No time to lose!
LITTLE JOHN.
His wound is bitter--I know not if we dare
Move him!
FIRST FORESTER.
His wound?
LITTLE JOHN.
Ay, some damned arrow pierced him
When he escaped last night from the Dark Tower.
He never spoke of it when first he reached us;
And, suddenly, he swooned. He is asleep
Now. He must not be wakened. They will take
Some time yet ere they thread our forest-maze.
FIRST FORESTER.
Not long, by God, not long. They are moving fast.
[MARIAN appears at the mouth of the cave. All turn to
look at her, expectantly. She seems in distress.]
MARIAN.
He is tossing to and fro. I think his wound
Has taken fever! What can we do?
FRIAR TUCK.
I've sent
A messenger to Kirklee Priory,
Where my old friend the Prioress hath store
Of balms and simples, and hath often helped
A wounded forester. Could we take him there,
Her skill would quickly heal him.
LITTLE JOHN.
The time is pressing!
FRIAR TUCK.
The lad will not be long!
[ROBIN appears tottering and white at the mouth of the cave.]
MARIAN.
[Running to him.]
O Robin, Robin,
You must not rise! Your wound!
ROBIN.
[He speaks feverishly.]
Where can I rest
Better than on my greenwood throne of turf?
Friar, I heard them say they had some prisoners.
Bring them before me.
FRIAR TUCK.
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.
[Going up to him.]
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.
MARIAN.
O Robin,
Give me your word that you'll go back and rest,
When you have seen them.
ROBIN.
Yes, I will try, I will try!
But oh, the sunlight! Where better, sweet, than this?
[She leads him to the throne of turf and he
sits down upon it, with MARIAN at his side.]
The Friar is right. This life is wine, red wine,
Under the greenwood boughs! Oh, still to keep it,
One little glen of justice in the midst
Of multitudinous wrong. Who knows? We yet
May leaven the whole world.
[Enter the Outlaws, with several prisoners,
among them, a KNIGHT, an ABBOT, and a FORESTER.]
Those are the prisoners?
You had some victims of the forest laws
That came to you for help. Bring them in, too,
And set them over against these lords of the earth!
[Some ragged women and children appear. Several serfs with
iron collars round their necks and their eyes put out,
are led gently in.]
Is that our Lincoln green among the prisoners?
There? One of my own band?
LITTLE JOHN.
Ay, more's the pity!
We took him out of pity, and he has wronged
Our honour, sir; he has wronged a helpless woman
Entrusted to his guidance thro' the forest.
ROBIN.
Ever the same, the danger comes from those
We fight for, those below, not those above!
Which of you will betray me to the King?
THE FORESTER.
Do you ask _me_, sir?
ROBIN.
Judas answered first,
With "Master, is it I?" Hang not thy head!
What say'st thou to this charge?
THE FORESTER.
Why, Friar Tuck
Can answer for me. Do you think he cares
Less for a woman's lips than I?
FRIAR TUCK.
Cares less,
Thou rotten radish? Nay, but a vast deal more!
God's three best gifts to man,--woman and song
And wine, what dost _thou_ know of all their joy?
Thou lean pick-purse of kisses?
ROBIN.
Take him out,
Friar, and let him pack his goods and go,
Whither he will. I trust the knave to thee
And thy good quarter-staff, for some five minutes
Before he says "Farewell."
FRIAR.
Bring him along,
Give him a quarter-staff, I'll thrash him roundly.
[He goes out. Two of the FORESTERS follow with the prisoner.
Others bring the ABBOT before ROBIN.]
ROBIN.
Ah! Ha! I know him, the godly usurer
Of York!
LITTLE JOHN.
We saw a woman beg for alms,
One of the sufferers by the rule which gave
This portly Norman his fat priory
And his abundant lands. We heard him say
That he was helpless, had not one poor coin
To give her, not a scrap of bread! He wears
Purple beneath his cloak: his fine sleek palfrey
Flaunted an Emperor's trappings!
ABBOT.
Man, the Church
Must keep her dignity!
ROBIN.
[Pointing to the poor woman, etc.]
Ay, look at it!
There is your dignity! And you must wear
Silk next your skin to show it. But there was one
You call your Master, and He had not where
To lay His head, save one of these same trees!
ABBOT.
Do you blaspheme! I pray you, let me go!
There are grave matters waiting. I am poor!
ROBIN.
Look in his purse and see.
ABBOT.
[Hurriedly.]
I have five marks
In all the world, no more. I'll give them to you!
ROBIN.
Look in his purse and see.
[They pour a heap of gold out of his purse.]
ROBIN.
Five marks, Indeed!
Here's, at the least, a hundred marks in gold!
ABBOT.
That is my fees, my fees; you must not take them!
ROBIN.
The ancient miracle!--five loaves, two small fishes;
And then--of what remained--they gathered up
Twelve basketsful!
ABBOT.
Oh, you blaspheming villains!
ROBIN.
Abbot, I chance to know how this was wrought,
This miracle; wrought with the blood, anguish and sweat
Of toiling peasants, while the cobwebs clustered
Around your lordly cellars of red wine.
Give him his five and let him go.
ABBOT.
[Going out.]
The King
Shall hear of this! The King will hunt you down!
ROBIN.
And now--the next!
SCARLET.
Beseech you, sir, to rest,
Your wound will--
ROBIN.
No! The next, show me the next!
SCARLET.
This Norman baron--
ROBIN.
What, another friend!
Another master of broad territories.
How many homes were burned to make you lord
Of half a shire? What hath he in his purse?
SCARLET.
Gold and to spare!
BARON.
To keep up mine estate
I need much more.
ROBIN.
[Pointing to the poor.]
Ay, you need these! these! these!
BARON.
[Protesting.]
I am not rich.
ROBIN.
Look in his purse and see.
BARON.
You dogs, the King shall hear of it!
ROBIN.
[Murmuring as if to himself.]
Five loaves!
And yet, of what remained, they gathered up
Twelve basketsful. The bread of human kindness
Goes far! Oh, I begin to see new meanings
In that old miracle! How much? How much?
SCARLET.
Five hundred marks in gold!
ROBIN.
[Half rising and speaking with a sudden passion.]
His churls are starving,
Starving! Their little children cry for bread!
One of those jewels on his baldric there
Would feed them all in plenty all their lives!
Five loaves--and yet--and yet--of what remained,
The fragments, mark you, twelve great basketsful!
BARON.
I am in a madman's power! The man is mad!
ROBIN.
Take all he has, all you can get. To-night,
When all is dark (we must have darkness, mind,
For deeds like this) blind creatures will creep out
With groping hands and gaping mouths, lean arms,
And shrivelled bodies, branded, fettered, lame,
Distorted, horrible; and they will weep
Great tears like gouts of blood upon our feet,
And we shall succour them and make them think
(That's if you have not mangled their poor souls
As well, or burned their children with their homes),
We'll try to make them think that some few roods
Of earth are not so bitter as hell might be.
Are you not glad to think of this? Nay--go--
Or else your face will haunt me when I die!
Take him quickly away. The next! The next!
O God!
[Flings up his arms and falls fainting.]
MARIAN.
[Bending over him.]
O Robin! Robin! Help him quickly.
The wound! The wound!
[They gather round ROBIN The OUTLAWS come back with the
captive FORESTER, his pack upon his back.]
FRIAR TUCK.
[To the FORESTER.]
Now, get you gone and quickly!
What, what hath happened?
[FRIAR TUCK and the OUTLAWS join the throng round ROBIN. The
FORESTER shakes his fist at them and goes across the glade
muttering. The MESSENGER from Kirklee Priory comes out of the
forest at the same moment and speaks to him, not knowing of his
dismissal.]
MESSENGER.
All's well! Robin can come
To Kirklee. Our old friend the Prioress
Is there, and faithful! They've all balms and simples
To heal a wound.
FORESTER.
[Staring at him.]
To Kirklee?
MESSENGER.
Yes, at sunset,
We'll take him to the borders of the wood
All will be safe.
Where he can steal in easily, alone.
FORESTER.
The King's men are at hand!
MESSENGER.
Oh, but if we can leave him there, all's safe;
We'll dodge the King's men.
FORESTER.
When is he to go?
MESSENGER.
Almost at once; but he must not steal in
Till sundown, when the nuns are all in chapel.
How now? What's this? What's this?
[He goes across to the throng round ROBIN]
FORESTER.
[Looking after him.]
Alone, to Kirklee!
[Exit.] _
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Read previous: Act 4 - Scene 4
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