 | The Foresters |  |
ACT II
THE FLIGHT OF MARIAN
Scene I.
A broad forest glade, woodman's hut at one side with half-door. Foresters are looking to their bows and arrows, or polishing their swords.Foresters
sing (as they disperse to their work).
Where'er the light of day be;
There are no hearts like English hearts
Such hearts of oak as they be.
There is no land like England
Where'er the light of day be;
There are no men like Englishmen
So tall and bold as they be.
And man and maid be free
To foil and spoil the tyrant
Beneath the greenwood tree.
Where'er the light of day be;
There are no wives like English wives
So fair and chaste as they be.
There is no land like England
Where'er the light of day be;
There are no maids like English maids
So beautiful as they be.
And all their sons be free
To sing the songs of England
Beneath the greenwood tree.
Robin
(alone).
The king of day hath stept from off his throne,
Flung by the golden mantle of the cloud,
And sets, a naked fire. The King of England
Perchance this day may sink as gloriously,
We hear he is in prison. It is my birthday.
I have reign'd one year in the wild wood. My mother,
For whose sake, and the blessed Queen of Heaven,
I reverence all women, bad me, dying,
Whene'er this day should come about, to carve
One lone hour from it, so to meditate
Upon my greater nearness to the birthday
Of the after-life, when all the sheeted dead
Are shaken from their stillness in the grave
By the last trumpet.
I am outlaw'd. I am none the worse for that.
I held for Richard, and I hated John.
I am a thief, ay, and a king of thieves.
Ay! but we rob the robber, wrong the wronger,
And what we wring from them we give the poor.
I am none the worse for that, and all the better
For this free forest-life, for while I sat
Among my thralls in my baronial hall
The groining hid the heavens; but since I breathed,
A houseless head beneath the sun and stars,
The soul of the woods hath stricken thro' my blood,
The love of freedom, the desire of God,
The hope of larger life hereafter, more
Tenfold than under roof.
On this poor head; but I believe there lives
No man who truly loves and truly rules
His following, but can keep his followers true.
I am one with mine. Traitors are rarely bred
Save under traitor kings. Our vice-king John,
True king of vice—true play on words—our John
By his Norman arrogance and dissoluteness,
Hath made me king of all the discontent
Of England up thro' all the forest land
North to the Tyne: being outlaw'd in a land
Where law lies dead, we make ourselves the law.
Why break you thus upon my lonely hour?
Enter Little John and Kate.
Little John.
I found this white doe wandering thro' the wood,
Not thine, but mine. I have shot her thro' the heart.
Kate.
He lies, my lord. I have shot him thro' the heart.
Robin.
My God, thou art the very woman who waits
On my dear Marian. Tell me, tell me of her.
Thou comest a very angel out of heaven.
Where is she? and how fares she?
O my good lord,
I am but an angel by reflected light.
Your heaven is vacant of your angel. John—
Shame on him!—
Stole on her, she was walking in the garden,
And after some slight speech about the Sheriff
He caught her round the waist, whereon she struck him,
And fled into the castle. She and Sir Richard
Have past away, I know not where; and I
Was left alone, and knowing as I did
That I had shot him thro' the heart, I came
To eat him up and make an end of him.
Little John.
In kisses?
Kate.
You, how dare you mention kisses?
But I am weary pacing thro' the wood.
Show me some cave or cabin where I may rest.
Robin.
[Exeunt Little John and Kate.
She struck him, my brave Marian, struck the Prince,
The serpent that had crept into the garden
I think I should have stricken him to the death.
He never will forgive her.
Would pay this cursed mortgage to his brother
If Marian would marry him; and the son
Is most like dead—if so the land may come
To Marian, and they rate the land five-fold
The worth of the mortgage, and who marries her
Marries the land. Most honourable Sheriff!
(Passionately)
Gone, and it may be gone for evermore!
O would that I could see her for a moment
Glide like a light across these woodland ways!
Tho' in one moment she should glance away,
I should be happier for it all the year.
O would she moved beside me like my shadow!
O would she stood before me as my queen,
To make this Sherwood Eden o'er again,
And these rough oaks the palms of Paradise!
Ah! but who be those three yonder with bows?—
not of my band—the Sheriff, and by heaven, Prince
John himself and one of those mercenaries that such
the blood of England. My people are all scattered I
know not where. Have they come for me? Here
is the witch's hut. The fool-people call her a witch
—a good witch to me! I will shelter here.
Old Woman
(kisses his hand).
Ah dear Robin! ah noble captain, friend of the
poor!
Robin.
I am chased by my foes. I have forgotten my
horn that calls my men together. Disguise me—thy
gown and thy coif.
Old Woman.
Come in, come in; I would give my life for thee,
for when the Sheriff had taken all our goods for
the King without paying, our horse and our little
cart—
Robin.
Quick, good mother, quick!
Old Woman.
Ay, ay, gown, coif, and petticoat, and the old
woman's blessing with them to the last fringe.
Enter Prince John, Sheriff of Nottingham, and Mercenary.
Prince John.
Did we not hear the two would pass this way?
They must have past. Here is a woodman's hut.
Take heed, take heed! in Nottingham they say
There bides a foul witch somewhere hereabout.
Sheriff.
Not in this hut I take it.
Prince John.
Why not here?
Sheriff.
I saw a man go in, my lord.
Prince John.
Not two?
Sheriff.
No, my lord, one.
Prince John.
Make for the cottage then!
Interior of the hut.
Robin disguised as old woman.
Prince John
(without).
Knock again! knock again!
(to Old Woman).
Get thee into the closet there, and make a
ghostly wail ever and anon to scare 'em.
Old Woman.
I will, I will, good Robin.
Prince John
(without).
Open, open, or I will drive the door from the
doorpost.
Robin
(opens door).
Come in, come in.
Prince John.
Why did ye keep us at the door so long?
Robin
(curtseying).
I was afear'd it was the ghost, your worship.
Prince John.
Ghost! did one in white pass?
Robin
(curtseying).
No, your worship.
Prince John.
Did two knights pass?
(curtseying).
No, your worship.
Sheriff.
I fear me we have lost our labour, then.
Prince John.
Except this old hag have been bribed to lie.
Robin.
We old hags should be bribed to speak truth, for,
God help us, we lie by nature.
Prince John.
There was a man just now that enter'd here?
Robin.
There is but one old woman in the hut.
Robin.
I crave your worship's pardon. There is yet another
old woman. She was murdered here a hundred
year ago, and whenever a murder is to be done
again she yells out i' this way—so they say, your
worship.
Now, if I hadn't a sprig o' wickentree sewn into
my dress, I should run.
Prince John.
Tut! tut! the scream of some wild woodland thing.
How came we to be parted from our men?
We shouted, and they shouted, as I thought,
But shout and echo play'd into each other
So hollowly we knew not which was which.
Robin.
The wood is full of echoes, owls, elfs, ouphes, oafs,
ghosts o' the mist, wills-o'-the-wisp; only they that
be bred in it can find their way a-nights in it.
Prince John.
I am footsore and famish'd therewithal.
Is there aught there?
[Pointing to cupboard.
Robin.
Naught for the likes o' you.
Prince John.
Speak straight out, crookback.
Sour milk and black bread.
Prince John.
This is mere marble. Old hag, how should thy
one tooth drill thro' this?
Robin.
Nay, by St. Gemini, I ha' two; and since the
Sheriff left me naught but an empty belly, they can
meet upon anything thro' a millstone. You gentles
that live upo' manchet-bread and marchpane, what
should you know o' the food o' the poor? Look you
here, before you can eat it you must hack it with a
hatchet, break it all to pieces, as you break the poor,
as you would hack at Robin Hood if you could light
upon him
(hacks it and flings two pieces).
There's for
you, and there's for you—and the old woman's
welcome.
Prince John.
The old wretch is mad, and her bread is beyond
me: and the milk—faugh! Hast thou anything to
sweeten this?
Here's a pot o' wild honey from an old oak, saving
your sweet reverences.
Sheriff.
Thou hast a cow then, hast thou?
Robin.
Ay, for when the Sheriff took my little horse for
the King without paying for it—
Sheriff.
How hadst thou then the means to buy a cow?
Robin.
Eh, I would ha' given my whole body to the King
had he asked for it, like the woman at Acre when the
Turk shot her as she was helping to build the mound
against the city. I ha' served the King living, says
she, and let me serve him dead, says she; let me go
to make the mound: bury me in the mound, says the
woman.
Sheriff.
Ay, but the cow?
Robin.
She was given me.
By whom?
Robin.
By a thief.
Sheriff.
Who, woman, who?
Robin
(sings).
He was the cock o' the walk;
He was the king o' the wood.
Your worship may find another rhyme if you care
to drag your brains for such a minnow.
Sheriff.
That cow was mine. I have lost a cow from my
meadow. Robin Hood was it? I thought as much.
He will come to the gibbet at last.
Mercenary.
O sweet sir, talk not of cows. You anger the
spirit.
Prince John.
Anger the scritch-owl.
Mercenary.
But, my lord, the scritch-owl bodes death, my lord.
I beseech you all to speak lower. Robin may be
hard by wi' three-score of his men. He often looks
in here by the moonshine. Beware of Robin.
Mercenary.
Ay, do you hear? There may be murder done.
Sheriff.
Have you not finished, my lord?
Robin.
Thou hast crost him in love, and I have heard
him swear he will be even wi' thee.
Mercenary.
Now is my heart so down in my heels that if I
stay, I can't run.
Sheriff.
Shall we not go?
Robin.
And, old hag tho' I be, I can spell the hand.
Give me thine. Ay, ay, the line o' life is marked
enow; but look, there is a cross line o' sudden death.
I pray thee go, go, for tho' thou wouldst bar me fro'
the milk o' my cow, I wouldn't have thy blood on
my hearth.
Prince John.
Why do you listen, man, to the old fool?
Sheriff.
I will give thee a silver penny if thou wilt show us
the way back to Nottingham.
Robin
(with a very low curtsey).
All the sweet saints bless your worship for your
alms to the old woman! but make haste then, and
be silent in the wood. Follow me.
(They come out of the hut and close the door carefully.)
Outside hut.
Robin.
Softly! softly! there may be a thief in every bush.
Prince John.
How should this old lamester guide us? Where
is thy goodman?
The saints were so kind to both on us that he
was dead before he was born.
Prince John.
Half-witted and a witch to boot! Mislead us,
and I will have thy life! and what doest thou with
that who art more bow-bent than the very bow thou
carriest?
Robin.
I keep it to kill nightingales.
Prince John.
Nightingales!
Robin.
You see, they are so fond o' their own voices that
I cannot sleep o' nights by cause on 'em.
Prince John.
True soul of the Saxon churl for whom song has
no charm.
Robin.
Then I roast 'em, for I have nought else to live on
(whines).
O your honour, I pray you too to give me
an alms.
This is no bow to hit nightingales; this is a true
woodman's bow of the best yew-wood to slay the
deer. Look, my lord, there goes one in the moonlight.
Shoot!
Prince John
(shoots).
Missed! There goes another. Shoot, Sheriff!
Sheriff
(shoots).
Missed!
Robin.
And here comes another. Why, an old woman
can shoot closer than you two.
Prince John.
Shoot then, and if thou miss I will fasten thee to
thine own doorpost and make thine old carcase a
target for us three.
Robin
(raises himself upright, shoots, and hits).
Hit! Did I not tell you an old woman could
shoot better?
Prince John.
Thou standest straight. Thou speakest manlike.
Thou art no old woman—thou art disguised—thou
art one of the thieves.
It is the very captain of the thieves!
Prince John.
We have him at last; we have him at advantage.
Strike, Sheriff! Strike, mercenary!
Enter Little John.
Little John.
How now? Clashing of swords—three upon one,
and that one our Robin! Rogues, have you no
manhood?
Enter Sir Richard Lea (draws his sword).
Sir Richard Lea.
Three upon two.
Is this a game for thee to play at? Away.
Friar Tuck.
I am too late then with my quarterstaff!
Robin.
Quick, friar, follow them:
See whether there be more of 'em in the wood.
Friar Tuck.
On the gallop, on the gallop, Robin, like a deer
from a dog, or a colt from a gad fly, or a stumptailed
ox in May-time, or the cow that jumped over
the moon.
Robin.
Nay, nay, but softly, lest they spy thee, friar!
[To Sir Richard Lea who reels.
Take thou mine arm. Who art thou, gallant knight?
Sir Richard.
Robin, I am Sir Richard of the Lea.
Who be those three that I have fought withal?
Robin.
Prince John, the Sheriff, and a mercenary.
Prince John again. We are flying from this John.
The Sheriff—I am grieved it was the Sheriff;
For, Robin, he must be my son-in-law.
Thou art an outlaw, and couldst never pay
The mortgage on my land. Thou wilt not see
My Marian more. So—so—I have presumed
Beyond my strength. Give me a draught of wine.
[Marian comes forward.
This is my son but late escaped from prison,
For whom I ran into my debt to the Abbot,
Two thousand marks in gold. I have paid him half.
That other thousand—shall I ever pay it?
A draught of wine.
Robin.
Our cellar is hard by.
Take him, good Little John, and give him wine.
[Exit Sir Richard leaning on Little John.
A brave old fellow but he angers me.
[To Maid Marian who is following her father.
Young Walter, nay, I pray thee, stay a moment.
Marian.
A moment for some matter of no moment!
Well—take and use your moment, while you may.
Robin.
Thou art her brother, and her voice is thine,
Give me some news of my sweet Marian.
Where is she?
Marian.
Thy sweet Marian? I believe
She came with me into the forest here.
Robin.
She follow'd thee into the forest here?
Marian.
Nay—that, my friend, I am sure I did not say.
Robin.
Thou blowest hot and cold. Where is she then?
Marian.
Is she not here with thee?
Robin.
Would God she were!
Marian.
If not with thee I know not where she is.
She may have lighted on your fairies here,
And now be skipping in their fairy-rings,
And capering hand in hand with Oberon.
Peace!
Marian.
Or learning witchcraft of your woodland witch,
And how to charm and waste the hearts of men.
Robin.
That is not brother-like.
Marian
(pointing to the sky).
Or there perchance
Up yonder with the man i' the moon.
Robin.
No more!
Marian.
Or haply fallen a victim to the wolf.
Robin.
Tut! be there wolves in Sherwood?
Marian.
The wolf, John!
Robin.
Curse him! but thou art mocking me. Thou art
Her brother—I forgive thee. Come be thou
My brother too. She loves me.
Doth she so?
Robin.
Do you doubt me when I say she loves me, man?
Marian.
No, but my father will not lose his land,
Rather than that would wed her with the Sheriff.
Robin.
Thou hold'st with him?
Marian.
Yes, in some sort I do.
He is old and almost mad to keep the land.
Robin.
Thou hold'st with him?
Marian.
I tell thee, in some sort.
Robin
(angrily).
Sort! sort! what sort? what sort of man art thou
For land, not love? Thou wilt inherit the land,
And so wouldst sell thy sister to the Sheriff,
And now, I do bethink me, thou wast by
And never drewest sword to help the old man
When he was fighting.
Marian.
There were three to three.
Robin.
Thou shouldst have ta'en his place, and fought for him.
Marian.
He did it so well there was no call for me.
Robin.
My God!
That such a brother—she marry the Sheriff!
Come now, I fain would have a bout with thee.
It is but pastime—nay, I will not harm thee.
Draw!
Marian.
Earl, I would fight with any man but thee.
Robin.
Ay, ay, because I have a name for prowess.
Marian.
It is not that.
That! I believe thou fell'st into the hands
Of these same Moors thro' nature's baseness, criedst
‘I yield’ almost before the thing was ask'd,
And thro' thy lack of manhood hast betray'd
Thy father to the losing of his land.
Come, boy! 'tis but to see if thou canst fence.
Draw!
[Draws.
Marian.
No, Sir Earl, I will not fight to-day.
Robin.
To-morrow then?
Marian.
Well, I will fight to-morrow.
Robin.
Give me thy glove upon it.
Marian
(pulls off her glove and gives it to him).
There!
Robin.
O God!
What sparkles in the moonlight on thy hand?
[Takes her hand.
Thou hast robb'd my girl of her betrothal ring.
Marian.
No, no!
Robin.
What! do I not know mine own ring?
Marian.
I keep it for her.
Robin.
Nay, she swore it never
Should leave her finger. Give it me, by heaven,
Or I will force it from thee.
Marian.
O Robin, Robin!
Robin.
O my dear Marian,
Is it thou? is it thou? I fall before thee, clasp
Thy knees. I am ashamed. Thou shalt not marry
The Sheriff, but abide with me who love thee.
[She moves from him, the moonlight falls upon her.
O look! before the shadow of these dark oaks
Thou seem'st a saintly splendour out from heaven,
Speak but one word not only of forgiveness,
But to show thou art mortal.
Marian.
Mortal enough,
If love for thee be mortal. Lovers hold
True love immortal. Robin, tho' I love thee,
We cannot come together in this world.
Not mortal! after death, if after death—
Robin
(springing up).
Life, life. I know not death. Why do you vex me
With raven-croaks of death and after death?
Marian.
And I and he are passing overseas:
He has a friend there will advance the monies,
So now the forest lawns are all as bright
As ways to heaven, I pray thee give us guides
To lead us thro' the windings of the wood.
Robin.
Must it be so? If it were so, myself
Would guide you thro' the forest to the sea.
But go not yet, stay with us, and when thy brother—
Robin, I ever held that saying false
That Love is blind, but thou hast proven it true.
Why—even your woodland squirrel sees the nut
Behind the shell, and thee however mask'd
I should have known. But thou—to dream that he
My brother, my dear Walter—now, perhaps,
Fetter'd and lash'd, a galley-slave, or closed
For ever in a Moorish tower, or wreckt
And dead beneath the midland ocean, he
As gentle as he's brave—that such as he
Would wrest from me the precious ring I promised
Never to part with—No, not he, nor any.
I would have battled for it to the death.
[In her excitement she draws her sword.
See, thou hast wrong'd my brother and myself.
Robin
(kneeling).
See then, I kneel once more to be forgiven.
Enter Scarlet, Much, several of the Foresters, rushing on.
Scarlet.
Look! look! he kneels! he has anger'd the foul witch,
Who melts a waxen image by the fire,
And drains the heart and marrow from a man.
Our Robin beaten, pleading for his life!
Seize on the knight! wrench his sword from him!
[They all rush on Marian.
Robin
(springing up and waving his hand).
Back!
Back all of you! this is Maid Marian
Flying from John—disguised.
Men.
Maid Marian? she?
Scarlet.
Captain, we saw thee cowering to a knight
And thought thou wert bewitch'd.
Marian.
You dared to dream
That our great Earl, the bravest English heart
Since Hereward the Wake, would cower to any
Of mortal build. Weak natures that impute
Themselves to their unlikes, and their own want
Of manhood to their leader! he would break,
Far as he might, the power of John—but you—
What rightful cause could grow to such a heat
As burns a wrong to ashes, if the followers
Robin—I know not, can I trust myself
With your brave band? in some of these may lodge
That baseness which for fear or monies, might
Betray me to the wild Prince.
Robin.
No, love, no!
Not any of these, I swear.
Men.
No, no, we swear.
Scene II.
Another Glade in the Forest.Robin and Marian passing. Enter Forester.
Forester.
Knight, your good father had his draught of wine
And then he swoon'd away. He had been hurt,
And bled beneath his armour. Now he cries
‘The land! the land!’ Come to him.
Marian.
O my poor father!
Stay with us in this wood, till he recover.
We know all balms and simples of the field
To help a wound. Stay with us here, sweet love,
Maid Marian, till thou wed what man thou wilt.
All here will prize thee, honour, worship thee,
Crown thee with flowers; and he will soon be well:
All will be well.
Marian.
O lead me to my father!
[As they are going out Enter Little John and Kate who falls on the neck of Marian.
Kate.
No, no, false knight, thou canst not hide thyself
From her who loves thee.
Little John.
What!
By all the devils in and out of Hell!
Wilt thou embrace thy sweetheart 'fore my face?
Quick with thy sword! the yeoman braves the knight.
There! (strikes her with the flat of his sword).
Marian
(laying about her).
Are the men all mad? there then, and there!
O hold thy hand! this is our Marian.
Little John.
What! with this skill of fence! let go mine arm.
Robin.
Down with thy sword! She is my queen and thine,
The mistress of the band.
Marian
(sheathing her sword).
A maiden now
Were ill-bested in these dark days of John,
Except she could defend her innocence.
O lead me to my father.
[Exeunt Robin and Marian
Little John.
Speak to me,
I am like a boy now going to be whipt;
I know I have done amiss, have been a fool,
Speak to me, Kate, and say you pardon me!
Kate.
I never will speak word to thee again.
What? to mistrust the girl you say you love
How should you love if you mistrust your love?
Little John.
O Kate, true love and jealousy are twins,
And love is joyful, innocent, beautiful,
And jealousy is wither'd, sour and ugly:
Yet are they twins and always go together.
Kate.
Well, well, until they cease to go together,
I am but a stone and a dead stock to thee.
Little John.
I thought I saw thee clasp and kiss a man
And it was but a woman. Pardon me.
Kate.
Ay, for I much disdain thee, but if ever
Thou see me clasp and kiss a man indeed,
I will again be thine, and not till then.
[Exit.
Little John.
I have been a fool and I have lost my Kate.
[Exit.
Re-enter Robin.
He dozes I have left her watching him.
She will not marry till her father yield.
The old man dotes.
Nay—and she will not marry till Richard come,
And that's at latter Lammas—never perhaps.
Besides, tho' Friar Tuck might make us one,
An outlaw's bride may not be wife in law.
I am weary.
[Lying down on a bank.
What's here? a dead bat in the fairy ring—
Yes, I remember, Scarlet hacking down
A hollow ash, a bat flew out at him
In the clear noon, and hook'd him by the hair,
And he was scared and slew it. My men say
The fairies haunt this glade;—if one could catch
A glimpse of them and of their fairy Queen—
Have our loud pastimes driven them all away?
I never saw them: yet I could believe
There came some evil fairy at my birth
And cursed me, as the last heir of my race:
‘This boy will never wed the maid he loves,
Nor leave a child behind him’ (yawns).
Weary—weary
As tho' a spell were on me (he dreams).
[The whole stage lights up, and fairies are seen swinging on boughs and nestling in hollow trunks.
First Fairy.
Evil fairy! do you hear?
So he said who lieth here.
Second Fairy.
We be fairies of the wood,
We be neither bad nor good.
First Fairy.
Back and side and hip and rib,
Nip, nip him for his fib.
Titania.
Nip him not, but let him snore.
We must flit for evermore.
First Fairy.
Tit, my queen, must it be so?
Wherefore, wherefore should we go?
Titania.
I Titania bid you flit,
And you dare to call me Tit.
Tit, for love and brevity,
Not for love of levity.
Titania.
Pertest of our flickering mob,
Wouldst thou call my Oberon Ob?
First Fairy.
Nay, an please your Elfin Grace,
Never Ob before his face.
Titania.
Fairy realm is breaking down
When the fairy slights the crown.
First Fairy.
No, by wisp and glowworm, no.
Only wherefore should we go?
Titania.
We must fly from Robin Hood
And this new queen of the wood.
First Fairy.
True, she is a goodly thing.
Jealousy, jealousy of the king.
Nay, for Oberon fled away
Twenty thousand leagues to-day.
Chorus.
Look, there comes a deputation
From our finikin fairy nation.
Enter several Fairies.
Third Fairy.
Crush'd my bat whereon I flew!
Found him dead and drench'd in dew,
Queen.
Fourth Fairy.
Quash'd my frog that used to quack
When I vaulted on his back,
Queen.
Fifth Fairy.
Kill'd the sward where'er they sat,
Queen.
Sixth Fairy.
Lusty bracken beaten flat,
Queen.
Honest daisy deadly bruised,
Queen.
Eighth Fairy.
Modest maiden lily abused,
Queen.
Ninth Fairy.
Beetle's jewel armour crack'd,
Queen.
Tenth Fairy.
Reed I rock'd upon broken-back'd,
Queen.
Fairies
(in chorus).
We be scared with song and shout.
Arrows whistle all about.
All our games be put to rout.
All our rings be trampled out.
Lead us thou to some deep glen,
Far from solid foot of men,
Never to return again,
Queen.
(to First Fairy).
Talk of jealousy? You see why
We must leave the wood and fly.
And over this Robin Hood's bay!
Up thro' the light of the seas by the moon's long-silvering ray!
To a land where the fay,
Not an eye to survey,
In the night, in the day,
Can have frolic and play.
Up with you, all of you, out of it! hear and obey.
Man, lying here alone,
Moody creature,
Of a nature
Stronger, sadder than my own,
Were I human, were I human,
I could love you like a woman.
Man, man,
You shall wed your Marian.
She is true, and you are true,
And you love her and she loves you;
Robin
(half waking).
Shall I be happy? Happy vision, stay.
Titania.
Up with you, all of you, off with you, out of it, over the
wood and away!
Note.—In the stage copy of my play I have had this Fairy Scene transferred to the end of the Third Act, for the sake of modern dramatic effect.
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