University of Virginia Library

ACT I

Scene I.

The garden before Sir Richard Lea's castle.
Kate
(gathering flowers).

These roses for my Lady Marian; these lilies to lighten Sir Richard's black room, where he sits and eats his heart for want of money to pay the Abbot.

[Sings.

Enter four ragged Retainers.
First Retainer.

You do well, Mistress Kate, to sing and to gather roses. You be fed with tit-bits, you, and we be dogs that have only the bones, till we be only bones our own selves.

Kate.

I am fed with tit-bits no more than you are, but I keep a good heart and make the most of it, and, truth to say, Sir Richard and my Lady Marian fare wellnigh as sparely as their people.

Second Retainer.

And look at our suits, out at knee, out at elbow. We be more like scarecrows in a field than decent serving men; and then, I pray you, look at Robin Earl of Huntingdon's men.

First Retainer.

She hath looked well at one of 'em, Little John.

Third Retainer.

Ay, how fine they be in their liveries, and each of 'em as full of meat as an egg, and as sleek and as round-about as a mellow codlin.

Fourth Retainer.

But I be worse off than any of you, for I be lean by nature, and if you cram me crop-full I be little better than Famine in the picture, but if you starve me I be Gaffer Death himself. I would like to show you, Mistress Kate, how bare and spare I be on the rib: I be lanker than an old horse turned out to die on the common:

Kate.

Spare me thy spare ribs, I pray thee; but now I ask you all, did none of you love young Walter Lea?

First Retainer.

Ay, if he had not gone to fight the king's battles, we should have better battels at home.

Kate.

Right as an Oxford scholar, but the boy was taken prisoner by the Moors.

First Retainer.

Ay.

Kate.

And Sir Richard was told he might be ransomed for two thousand marks in gold.

First Retainer.

Ay.

Kate.

Then he borrowed the monies from the Abbot of York, the Sheriff's brother. And if they be not paid back at the end of the year, the land goes to the Abbot.

First Retainer.

No news of young Walter?

Kate.

None, nor of the gold, nor the man who took out the gold: but now ye know why we live so stintedly, and why ye have so few grains to peck at. Sir Richard must scrape and scrape till he get to the land again. Come, come, why do ye loiter here? Carry fresh rushes into the dining-hall, for those that are there, they be so greasy, and smell so vilely that my Lady Marian holds her nose when she steps across it.

Fourth Retainer.

Why there, now! that very word ‘greasy’ hath a kind of unction in it, a smack of relish about it. The rats have gnawed 'em already. I pray Heaven we may not have to take to the rushes.

[Exeunt.

Kate.

Poor fellows!

Enter Little John.
Little John.

My master, Robin the Earl, is always a-telling us that every man, for the sake of the great blessed Mother in heaven, and for the love of his own little mother on earth, should handle all womankind gently, and hold them in all honour, and speak small to 'em, and not scare 'em, but go about to come at their love with all manner of homages, and observances, and circumbendibuses.

Kate.
The lady gave a rose to the Earl,
The maid a rose to the man.

Little John
(seeing her).

O the sacred little thing! What a shape! what lovely arms! A rose to the man! Ay, the man had given her a rose and she gave him another.

Kate.

Shall I keep one little rose for Little John? No.

Little John.

There, there! You see I was right. She hath a tenderness toward me, but is too shy to show it. It is in her, in the woman, and the man must bring it out of her.

Kate.
She gave a weeping kiss to the Earl,
The maid a kiss to the man.

Little John.

Did she? But there I am sure the ballad is at fault. It should have told us how the man first kissed the maid. She doesn't see me. Shall I be bold? shall I touch her? shall I give her the first kiss? O sweet Kate, my first love, the first kiss, the first kiss!

Kate
(turns and kisses him).

Why lookest thou so amazed?

Little John.

I cannot tell; but I came to give thee the first kiss, and thou hast given it me.

Kate.

But if a man and a maid care for one another, does it matter so much if the maid give the first kiss?

Little John.

I cannot tell, but I had sooner have given thee the first kiss. I was dreaming of it all the way hither.

Kate.

Dream of it, then, all the way back, for now I will have none of it.

Little John.

Nay, now thou hast given me the man's kiss, let me give thee the maid's.

Kate.

If thou draw one inch nearer, I will give thee a buffet on the face.

Little John.

Wilt thou not give me rather the little rose for Little John?

Kate
(throws it down and tramples on it).

There!

[Kate, seeing Marian, exit hurriedly.
Enter.
Marian
(singing).

Little John.

Thanks, my lady—inasmuch as I am a true believer in true love myself, and your Ladyship hath sung the old proverb out of fashion.

Marian.

Ay but thou hast ruffled my woman, Little John. She hath the fire in her face and the dew in her eyes. I believed thee to be too solemn and formal to be a ruffler. Out upon thee!

Little John.

I am no ruffler, my lady; but I pray you, my lady, if a man and a maid love one another, may the maid give the first kiss?

Marian.

It will be all the more gracious of her if she do.

Little John.

I cannot tell. Manners be so corrupt, and these are the days of Prince John.

[Exit.

Enter Sir Richard Lea (reading a bond).
Sir Richard.

Marian!

Marian.

Father!

Sir Richard.

Who parted from thee even now?

Marian.

That strange starched stiff creature, Little John, the Earl's man. He would grapple with a lion like the King, and is flustered by a girl's kiss.

Sir Richard.

There never was an Earl so true a friend of the people as Lord Robin of Huntingdon.

Marian.

A gallant Earl. I love him as I hate John.

Sir Richard.

I fear me he hath wasted his revenues in the service of our good king Richard against the party of John, as I have done, as I have done: and where is Richard?

Marian.

Cleave to him, father! he will come home at last.

Sir Richard.

I trust he will, but if he do not I and thou are but beggars.

Marian.

We will be beggar'd then and be true to the King.

Sir Richard.

Thou speakest like a fool or a woman. Canst thou endure to be a beggar whose whole life hath

been folded like a blossom in the sheath, like a careless sleeper in the down; who never hast felt a want, to whom all things, up to this present, have come as freely as heaven's air and mother's milk?

Marian.

Tut, father! I am none of your delicate Norman maidens who can only broider and mayhap ride a-hawking with the help of the men. I can bake and I can brew, and by all the saints I can shoot almost as closely with the bow as the great Earl himself. I have played at the foils too with Kate: but is not to-day his birthday?

Sir Richard.

Dost thou love him indeed, that thou keepest a record of his birthdays? Thou knowest that the Sheriff of Nottingham loves thee.

Marian.

The Sheriff dare to love me? me who worship Robin the great Earl of Huntingdon? I love him as a damsel of his day might have loved Harold the Saxon, or Hereward the Wake. They both fought against the tyranny of the kings, the Normans. But then your Sheriff, your little man, if he dare to fight

at all, would fight for his rents, his leases, his houses, his monies, his oxen, his dinners, himself. Now your great man, your Robin, all England's Robin, fights not for himself but for the people of England. This John—this Norman tyranny—the stream is bearing us all down, and our little Sheriff will ever swim with the stream! but our great man, our Robin, against it. And how often in old histories have the great men striven against the stream, and how often in the long sweep of years to come must the great man strive against it again to save his country, and the liberties of his people! God bless our well-beloved Robin, Earl of Huntingdon.

Sir Richard.

Ay, ay. He wore thy colours once at a tourney. I am old and forget. Was Prince John there?

Marian.

The Sheriff of Nottingham was there—not John.

Sir Richard.

Beware of John and the Sheriff of Nottingham. They hunt in couples, and when they look at a maid they blast her.

Marian.

Then the maid is not high-hearted enough.

Sir Richard.

There—there—be not a fool again. Their aim is ever at that which flies highest—but O girl, girl, I am almost in despair. Those two thousand marks lent me by the Abbot for the ransom of my son Walter—I believed this Abbot of the party of King Richard, and he hath sold himself to that beast John —they must be paid in a year and a month, or I lose the land. There is one that should be grateful to me overseas, a Count in Brittany—he lives near Quimper. I saved his life once in battle. He has monies. I will go to him. I saved him. I will try him. I am all but sure of him. I will go to him.

Marian.

And I will follow thee, and God help us both.

Sir Richard.

Child, thou shouldst marry one who will pay the mortgage. This Robin, this Earl of Huntingdon— he is a friend of Richard—I know not, but he may save the land, he may save the land.

Marian
(showing a cross hung round her neck).

Father, you see this cross?

Sir Richard.

Ay the King, thy godfather, gave it thee when a baby.

Marian.

And he said that whenever I married he would give me away, and on this cross I have sworn [kisses it]
that till I myself pass away, there is no other man that shall give me away.

Sir Richard.

Lo there—thou art fool again—I am all as loyal as thyself, but what a vow! what a vow!

Re-enter Little John.
Little John.

My Lady Marian, your woman so flustered me that I forgot my message from the Earl. To-day he hath accomplished his thirtieth birthday, and he prays your ladyship and your ladyship's father to be present at his banquet to-night.

Marian.

Say, we will come.

Little John.

And I pray you, my lady, to stand between me and your woman, Kate.

Marian

I will speak with her.

Little John.

I thank you, my lady, and I wish you and your ladyship's father a most exceedingly good morning.

[Exit.

Sir Richard.

Thou hast answered for me, but I know not if I will let thee go.

Marian.

I mean to go.

Sir Richard.

Not if I barred thee up in thy chamber, like a bird in a cage.

Marian.

Then I would drop from the casement, like a spider.

Sir Richard.

But I would hoist the drawbridge, like thy master.

Marian.

And I would swim the moat, like an otter.

Sir Richard.

But I would set my men-at-arms to oppose thee, like the Lord of the Castle.

Marian.

And I would break through them all, like the King of England.

Sir Richard.

Well, thou shalt go, but O the land! the land! my great great great grandfather, my great great grandfather, my great grandfather, my grandfather and my own father—they were born and bred on it —it was their mother—they have trodden it for half a thousand years, and whenever I set my own foot on it I say to it, Thou art mine, and it answers, I am thine to the very heart of the earth—but now I have lost my gold, I have lost my son, and I shall lose my land also. Down to the devil with this bond that beggars me!

[Flings down the bond.

Marian.

Take it again, dear father, be not wroth at the dumb parchment. Sufficient for the day, dear father! let us be merry to-night at the banquet.

Scene II.

A hall in the house of Robin Hood the Earl of Huntingdon. Doors open into a banqueting-hall where he is at feast with his friends.
Enter Prince John disguised as a monk and the Sheriff of Nottingham. Cries of ‘Down with John,’ ‘Long live King Richard,’ ‘Down with John.’
Prince John.

Down with John! ha. Shall I be known? is my disguise perfect?

Sheriff.

Perfect—who should know you for Prince John, so that you keep the cowl down and speak not?

[Shouts from the banquet-room.

Prince John.

Thou and I will still these revelries presently. [Shouts, ‘Long live King Richard!’
I come here to see this daughter of Sir Richard of the Lea and if her beauties answer their report. If so—

Sheriff.

If so—

[Shouts, ‘Down with John!’

Prince John.

You hear!

Sheriff.

Yes, my lord, fear not. I will answer for you.

Enter Little John, Scarlet, Much, &c., from the banquet singing a snatch of the Drinking Song.
Little John.

I am a silent man myself, and all the more wonder at our Earl. What a wealth of words—O Lord, I will live and die for King Richard—not so much for the cause as for the Earl. O Lord, I am easily led by words, but I think the Earl hath right. Scarlet, hath not the Earl right? What makes thee so down in the mouth?

Scarlet.

I doubt not, I doubt not, and though I be down in the mouth, I will swear by the head of the Earl.

Little John.

Thou Much, miller's son, hath not the Earl right?

Much.

More water goes by the mill than the miller wots of, and more goes to make right than I know of, but for all that I will swear the Earl hath right. But they are coming hither for the dance—

Enter Friar Tuck.

Tuck.

Ay, ay, and but that I am a man of weight, and the weight of the church to boot on my shoulders, I would dance too. Fa, la, la, fa, la, la.

[Capering.

Much.

But doth not the weight of the flesh at odd times overbalance the weight of the church, ha friar?

Tuck.

Homo sum. I love my dinner—but I can fast, I can fast; and as to other frailties of the flesh—out upon thee! Homo sum, sed virgo sum, I am a virgin, my masters, I am a virgin.

Much.

And a virgin, my masters, three yards about the waist is like to remain a virgin, for who could embrace such an armful of joy?

Tuck.

Knave, there is a lot of wild fellows in Sherwood Forest who hold by King Richard. If ever I meet thee there, I will break thy sconce with my quarterstaff.

Enter from the banqueting-hall Sir Richard Lea, Robin Hood, &c.
Robin.
My guests and friends, Sir Richard, all of you
Who deign to honour this my thirtieth year,
And some of you were prophets that I might be
Now that the sun our King is gone, the light
Of these dark hours; but this new moon, I fear,
Is darkness. Nay, this may be the last time
When I shall hold my birthday in this hall:
I may be outlaw'd, I have heard a rumour.

All.
God forbid!

Robin.
Nay, but we have no news of Richard yet,
And ye did wrong in crying ‘Down with John;’
For be he dead, then John may be our King.

All.
God forbid!

Robin.
Ay God forbid,
But if it be so we must bear with John.
The man is able enough—no lack of wit,
And apt at arms and shrewd in policy.
Courteous enough too when he wills; and yet
I hate him for his want of chivalry.
He that can pluck the flower of maidenhood
From off the stalk and trample it in the mire,
And boast that he hath trampled it. I hate him,
I hate the man. I may not hate the King
For aught I know,
So that our Barons bring his baseness under.
I think they will be mightier than the king.

[Dance music.
(Marian enters with other damsels.)
Robin.
The high Heaven guard thee from his wantonness,
Who art the fairest flower of maidenhood
That ever blossom'd on this English isle.

Marian.
Cloud not thy birthday with one fear for me.
My lord, myself and my good father pray
Thy thirtieth summer may be thirty-fold
As happy as any of those that went before.

Robin.
My Lady Marian you can make it so
If you will deign to tread a measure with me.

Marian.
Full willingly, my lord.

[They dance.
Robin
(after dance).
My Lady, will you answer me a question?

Marian.
Any that you may ask.

Robin.

A question that every true man asks of a woman once in his life.

Marian.

I will not answer it, my lord, till King Richard come home again.

Prince John
(to Sheriff).
How she looks up at him, how she holds her face!
Now if she kiss him, I will have his head.

Sheriff.

Peace, my lord; the Earl and Sir Richard come this way.

Robin.

Must you have these monies before the year and the month end?

Sir Richard.

Or I forfeit my land to the Abbot. I must pass overseas to one that I trust will help me.

Robin.

Leaving your fair Marian alone here.

Sir Richard.

Ay, for she hath somewhat of the lioness in her, and there be men-at-arms to guard her.

[Robin, Sir Richard, and Marian pass on.
Prince John
(to Sheriff).
Why that will be our opportunity
When I and thou will rob the nest of her.

Sheriff.
Good Prince, art thou in need of any gold?

Prince John.
Gold? why? not now.

Sheriff.
I would give thee any gold
So that myself alone might rob the nest.

Prince John.
Well, well then, thou shalt rob the nest alone.

Sheriff.
Swear to me by that relic on thy neck.

Prince John.
I swear then by this relic on my neck—
No, no, I will not swear by this; I keep it
For holy vows made to the blessed Saints
Not pleasures, women's matters.
Dost thou mistrust me? Am I not thy friend?
Beware, man, lest thou lose thy faith in me.
I love thee much; and as I am thy friend,
I promise thee to make this Marian thine.
Go now and ask the maid to dance with thee,
And learn from her if she do love this Earl.

Sheriff
(advancing toward Marian and Robin).
Pretty mistress!

Robin.

What art thou, man? Sheriff of Nottingham?

Sheriff.

Ay, my lord. I and my friend, this monk, were here belated, and seeing the hospitable lights in your castle, and knowing the fame of your hospitality, we ventured in uninvited.

Robin.

You are welcome, though I fear you be of those who hold more by John than Richard.

Sheriff.

True, for through John I had my sheriffship. I am John's till Richard come back again, and then I am Richard's. Pretty mistress, will you dance?

[They dance.

Robin
(talking to Prince John).

What monk of what convent art thou? Why wearest thou thy cowl to hide thy face? [Prince John shakes his head.
Is he deaf, or dumb, or daft, or drunk belike? [Prince John shakes his head.

Why comest thou like a death's head at my feast? [Prince John points to the Sheriff, who is dancing with Marian.
Is he thy mouthpiece, thine interpreter?

[Prince John nods.

Sheriff
(to Marian as they pass).
Beware of John!

Marian.
I hate him.

Sheriff.
Would you cast
An eye of favour on me, I would pay
My brother all his debt and save the land.

Marian.
I cannot answer thee till Richard come.

Sheriff.
And when he comes?

Marian.
Well, you must wait till then.

Little John
(dancing with Kate).
Is it made up? Will you kiss me?

Kate.
You shall give me the first kiss.

Little John.
There (kisses her).
Now thine.

Kate.

You shall wait for mine till Sir Richard has paid the Abbot.

[They pass on.

[The Sheriff leaves Marian with her father and comes toward Robin.
Robin
(to Sheriff, Prince John standing by).

Sheriff, thy friend, this monk, is but a statue.

Sheriff.

Pardon him, my lord: he is a holy Palmer, bounden by a vow not to show his face, nor to speak word to anyone, till he join King Richard in the Holy Land.

Robin.

Going to the Holy Land to Richard! Give me thy hand and tell him— Why, what a cold grasp is thine—as if thou didst repent thy courtesy even in the doing it. That is no true man's hand. I hate hidden faces.

Sheriff.

Pardon him again, I pray you; but the twilight of the coming day already glimmers in the east. We thank you, and farewell.

Robin.
Farewell, farewell. I hate hidden faces.

[Exeunt Prince John and Sheriff.
Sir Richard
(coming forward with Maid Marian).
How close the Sheriff peer'd into thine eyes!
What did he say to thee?

Marian.
Bade me beward
Of John: what maid but would beware of John?

Sir Richard.
What else?

Marian.
I care not what he said.

Sir Richard.
What else?

Marian.
That if I cast an eye of favour on him,
Himself would pay this mortgage to his brother,
And save the land.

Sir Richard.
Did he say so, the Sheriff?

Robin.
I fear this Abbot is a heart of flint,
Hard as the stones of his abbey.
O good Sir Richard,
I am sorry my exchequer runs so low
I cannot help you in this exigency;
For though my men and I flash out at times
Of festival like burnish'd summer-flies,
We make but one hour's buzz, are only like
The rainbow of a momentary sun.
I am mortgaged as thyself.

Sir Richard.
Ay! I warrant thee—thou canst not be sorrier than
I am. Come away, daughter.

Robin.
Farewell, Sir Richard; farewell, sweet Marian.

Marian.
Till better times.

Robin.
But if the better times should never come?

Marian.
Then I shall be no worse.

Robin.
And if the worst time come?

Marian.
Why then I will be better than the time.

Robin.
This ring my mother gave me: it was her own
Betrothal ring. She pray'd me when I loved
A maid with all my heart to pass it down
A finger of that hand which should be mine
Thereafter. Will you have it? Will you wear it?

Marian.
Ay, noble Earl, and never part with it.

Sir Richard Lea
(coming up).
Not till she clean forget thee, noble Earl.

Marian.
Forget him—never—by this Holy Cross
Which good King Richard gave me when a child—
Never!
Not while the swallow skims along the ground,
And while the lark flies up and touches heaven!
Not while the smoke floats from the cottage roof,
And the white cloud is roll'd along the sky!
Not while the rivulet babbles by the door,
And the great breaker beats upon the beach!
Never—
Till Nature, high and low, and great and small
Forgets herself, and all her loves and hates
Sink again into chaos.

Sir Richard Lea.
Away! away!

[Exeunt to music.

Scene III.

Same as Scene II.
Robin and his men.
Robin.
Friends,
(to his men)
I am only merry for an hour or two
Upon a birthday: if this life of ours
Be a good glad thing, why should we make us merry
Because a year of it is gone? but Hope
Smiles from the threshold of the year to come
Whispering ‘it will be happier,’ and old faces
Press round us, and warm hands close with warm hands,
And thro' the blood the wine leaps to the brain
Like April sap to the topmost tree, that shoots
New buds to heaven, whereon the throstle rock'd
Sings a new song to the new year—and you
Strike up a song, my friends, and then to bed.

Little John.
What will you have, my lord?

Robin.
‘To sleep! to sleep!’

Little John.
There is a touch of sadness in it, my lord.
But ill befitting such a festal day.

Robin.
I have a touch of sadness in myself
Sing.

[A trumpet blown at the gates.
Robin.
Who breaks the stillness of the morning thus?

Little John
(going out and returning).
It is a royal messenger, my lord:
I trust he brings us news of the King's coming.

Enter a
Pursuivant
who reads.

O yes, O yes, O yes! In the name of the Regent. Thou, Robin Hood Earl of Huntingdon, art attainted and hast lost thine earldom of Huntingdon. Moreover thou art dispossessed of all thy lands, goods, and chattels; and by virtue of this writ, whereas

Robin Hood Earl of Huntingdon by force and arms hath trespassed against the king in divers manners, therefore by the judgment of the officers of the said lord king, according to the law and custom of the kingdom of England Robin Hood Earl of Huntingdon is outlawed and banished.

Robin.
I have shelter'd some that broke the forest laws.
This is irregular and the work of John.

[‘Irregular, irregular! (tumult) Down with him, tear his coat from his back!’
Messenger.
Ho there! ho there, the Sheriff's men without!

Robin.
Nay, let them be, man, let them be. We yield.
How should we cope with John? The London folkmote
Has made him all but king, and he hath seized
On half the royal castles. Let him alone!
(to his men)
A worthy messenger! how should he help it?
Shall we too work injustice? what, thou shakest!
Here, here—a cup of wine—drin and begone!
[Exit Messenger.
We will away in four-and-twenty hours,
But shall we leave our England?

Tuck.
Robin, Earl—

Robin.
Let be the Earl. Henceforth I am no more
Than plain man to plain man.

Tuck.
Well, then, plain man
There be good fellows there in merry Sherwood
That hold by Richard, tho' they kill his deer.

Robin.
In Sherwood Forest. I have heard of them.
Have they no leader?

Tuck.
Each man for his own
Be thou their leader and they will all of them
Swarm to thy voice like bees to the brass pan.

Robin.
They hold by Richard—the wild wood! to cast
All threadbare household habit, mix with all
The lusty life of wood and underwood,
Hawk, buzzard, jay, the mavis and the merle,
The tawny squirrel vaulting thro' the boughs,
The deer, the highback'd polecat, the wild boar,
The burrowing badger—By St. Nicholas
I have a sudden passion for the wild wood—
We should be free as air in the wild wood—
What say you? shall we go? Your hands, your hands!
[Gives his hand to each.
You, Scarlet, you are always moody here.

Scarlet.
'Tis for no lack of love to you, my lord,
But lack of happiness in a blatant wife.
She broke my head on Tuesday with a dish.
I would have thwack'd the woman, but I did not,
Because thou sayest such fine things of women
But I shall have to thwack her if I stay.

Robin.
Would it be better for thee in the wood?

Scarlet.
Ay, so she did not follow me to the wood.

Robin.
Then, Scarlet, thou at least wilt go with me.
Thou, Much, the miller's son, I knew thy father:
He was a manly man, as thou art, Much,
And gray before his time as thou art, Much.

Much.
It is the trick of the family, my lord.
There was a song he made to the turning wheel—

Robin.
‘Turn! turn!’ but I forget it.

Much.
I cansing it.

Robin.
Not now, good Much! And thou, dear Little John,
Who hast that worship for me which Heaven knows
I ill deserve—you love me, all of you,
But I am outlaw'd, and if caught, I die.
Your hands again. All thanks for all your service;
But if you follow me, you may die with me.

All.

We will live and die with thee, we will live and die with thee.