Collected Poems - LightNovelsOnl.com
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JOHN
Oh, ho! the dog is faithful! Take him away.
Get your red business done, I shall require Your men to ride with me.
SHERIFF
[_To his men._]
Take him out yonder, A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour Do not offend my lord. Delay no time, The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light Enough to blind him by.
SERF
[_Crying out and struggling as he is forced back into the forest._]
No, no, not that!
G.o.d will repay you! Kill me out of hand!
SHERIFF
[_To PRINCE JOHN._]
There is a kind of justice in all this.
The irons being heated in that fire, my lord, Which was his hut, aforetime.
[_Some of the men take the glowing irons from the fire and follow into the wood._]
There's no need To parley with him, either. The snares are laid For Robin Hood. He goes this very night To his betrothal feast.
JOHN
Betrothal feast!
SHERIFF
At old Fitzwalter's castle, sir.
JOHN
Ha! ha!
There will be one more guest there than he thought!
Ourselves are riding thither. We intended My Lady Marian for a happier fate Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid To capture him?
SHERIFF
[_Consequentially._]
It was our purpose, sir, To serve the writ of outlawry upon him And capture him as he came forth.
JOHN
That's well.
Then--let him disappear--you understand?
SHERIFF
I have your warrant, sir? Death? A great Earl?
JOHN
Why, first declare him outlawed at his feast!
'Twill gladden the tremulous heart of old Fitzwalter With his prospective son-in-law; and then-- No man will overmuch concern himself Whither an outlaw goes. You understand?
SHERIFF
It shall be done, sir.
JOHN
But the Lady Marian!
By heaven, I'll take her. I'll banish old Fitzwalter If he prevent my will in this. You'll bring How many men to ring the castle round?
SHERIFF
A good five score of bowmen.
JOHN
Then I'll take her This very night as hostage for Fitzwalter, Since he consorts with outlaws. These grey rats Will gnaw my kingdom's heart out. For 'tis mine, This England, now or later. They that hold By Richard, as their absent king, would make My rule a usurpation. G.o.d, am I My brother's keeper?
[_There is a cry in the forest from the SERF, who immediately afterwards appears at the edge of the glade, shaking himself free from his guards. He seizes a weapon and rushes at PRINCE JOHN. One of the retainers runs him through and he falls at the PRINCE'S feet._]
JOHN
That's a happy answer!
SHERIFF
[_Stooping over the body._]
He is dead.
JOHN
I am sorry. It were better sport To send him groping like a hoodman blind Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come, I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
Now for my Lady Marian!
[_Exeunt all. A pause. The scene darkens. Shadowy figures creep out from the thickets, of old men, women and children._]
