University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Flasby Wood. Norton and other Outlaws discovered in consultation.
NORTON.
We are abandoned, and perhaps—I dread
To speak the word—betrayed.

OMNES
(with energy).
Betrayed!

NORTON.
Be calm.
It is too true; unless obedience prompt
To the Chief's mandate, sooth his altered humour.
And more, my friends; of all the gentles leagued
With us in revel or in guilt—so, now,
It suits their mood to term it—I alone
Remain to head you. Most unfit—

OMNES.
No! no!

NORTON.
I am, 'tis true, devotedly your friend.
Our interests are the same. In sports and perils
I have participated; in your fall—
If that awaits you—I will also share.

OMNES.
Spoke like a man!

NORTON.
Yet be not rash, my friends!
The Chief hath kindness in his nature still
For the poor devils by himself misled.
For proof, behold this purse, which is the bribe
He offers for submission. I advise
You take it on his terms.

OMNES.
No! never! never!

NORTON.
Ye are brave spirits. Yet bethink you, friends;
The very act that spurns his kindness, makes
His anger sure.

AN OUTLAW.
His anger I defy!
If, after calling us around him—after
Encouraging to deeds where Danger sat
And warned us off—if, after all, he leave us;
Nor only leave, but slight; nor only slight,
But hint—Disclosure! by th'infernal fiend,
I, for myself, bid him defiance—thus!
[Draws.
And sooner will I dye this blade in gore—
His or my own—than cringe to him, and beg
With all humility he would not tell
What we have done beneath his high direction!

OMNES
(drawing).
Defiance!

NORTON.
Then Defiance be the word!—
Yet hearken me this once. Consider well
What that bold word imports! The sword once bared,
Ye do begin a quarrel of which none
May tell the issue.

AN OUTLAW.
No; themselves begin it,
By thus deserting and denouncing us.

THE OTHER OUTLAWS.
Most true.

NORTON.
Would I could say 'tis false!—Since, then,
In spite of every warning, ye resolve
Th'event to hazard, and to range, as erst,
A band of gallant Brothers,—here stands one
Who, though he sees the peril, will not shrink,
If so ye will, to meet it at your head.
First, swear ye will be true to me.

OMNES
(kissing their Swords).
We swear!

NORTON.
And I, as Leader, swear—
But here comes one
That must not know of this.
[They sheath their swords.
[Enter Fanny Ashton.
A fair good day
To Fanny Ashton!

FANNY.
And to you, fair sirs,
A better than you're like to have!

NORTON.
Why so?

FANNY.
My Father hath missed the snow-white buck, so prized
By the Lord Clifford, and, suspecting harm to't,
He ranges now the Forest with a band
Of armed attendants.

NORTON.
'Twas a noble deer!
A savoury haunch of it reposes now
In Gennet's cave—to which your sire is welcome.

FANNY.
Ye are strange madcaps! but I must be gone.

[Going.
NORTON.
No, stay; I would admire that pretty wreath
Your tasteful skill hath chosen, to set off
The glossy jet of those wild ringlets, Fanny.

FANNY.
I meant it not to gain your admiration.

NORTON.
You give me needless pain, by telling me
What I too truly understood before.
But I can have revenge.

FANNY.
Pr'ythee, how so?

NORTON.
By saying, in return, that all in vain
You rifled dell and mountain for those sweets;
For they will wither ere you see the Youth
To please whose eye you sought and plaited them.

FANNY
(agitated).
You jest.

NORTON.
Indeed I do not. And besides,
He follows one whose artificial gems
So far outshine these simple natural ones,
That I do fear he will henceforth despise them.

FANNY.
You speak to try me, now?

NORTON.
By'r Lady, no!
I speak with the most virtuous intent
To teach you resignation. Henry's false.

FANNY.
Thou'rt false to say that Henry's false, base man!
He hath a noble nature.

NORTON.
Right; he hath!
And seeks a noble mate. The Cottage girl,
Cuthbert the Ranger's daughter, may not hope
To be his final choice; and I suggest
A transfer of your heart, sweet maid.

FANNY.
To whom?

NORTON.
Would it offend you if I said—to me?

FANNY.
Who may the apple pluck, will scarcely turn
To take the hip or wild-rasp.

NORTON.
But the apple
Being destined for another, may give value
To the inferior fruit.

FANNY
(taking him apart).
With me, it will not.
But this is idle talk. O! tell me all.
To know the certainty of what I fear,
Can but be agony!

NORTON.
The tale is brief.
You recollect his absence when the moon
Was last at full? 'Twas then his hap to save,
During a hunt, the life of Lady Margaret,
Earl Percy's stately sister; and to lose
His heart at the same time. That Northern Flower,
Brought from its native scenes to bloom awhile
In Craven, your most faithful Lover now
Takes means to keep its fragrance to himself.

FANNY.
Then Fanny Ashton is most miserable!
—He promised he would meet me by this tree,
And in this hour. I flew and culled the wreath;
For he hath sworn that not the brightest Fair
In Henry's court so well became her jewels,
As I the flowerets of my native dell!
Then would he talk a thousand gay conceits
Above the simple thought of woodland girl,
Suiting their colours to my face and mind,
And telling me in every wreath I made
Not to omit the violet—which meant truth,
And this is Henry's truth!—Off, off, vain flowers,
[Casting the wreath to the ground.
There—wither like my hopes!

NORTON.
I did not think
That you would take it so to heart, else I
Had told you it less bluntly.

FANNY.
O! most sharp
Your tidings were!—The prickles on the bramble,
Whence I did pluck that rose-bud, from my hand
Drew forth a blood-drop, which I meant to show
For Henry's pity—foolish girl! he leaves
Thy heart to bleed, and will not pity!—O!—

NORTON.
Be calm, sweet Fanny; all will yet be well.

FANNY.
Ay, all will yet be well, when this poor heart
And this hot brain have ceased to throb!—The turf
Will hide my frailties from the eye of shame;
And pity—I want none of it! Tell him
That Fanny Ashton hath no memory
That ever Henry lived!

[Exit Fanny.
AN OUTLAW.
Alas, poor girl!
She will go mad.

NORTON.
Tush! she hath too much passion
For that effect. It is the hurricane
That clears the atmosphere.

AN OUTLAW.
And tears the blossom
From its green stalk, to whirl it into nothing.
But for her warning?

NORTON.
Did I widely err
In the conclusion that we are betrayed?
Already, as you hear, the chase is up!
They might have given us time—a single day—
For calm deliberation, ere they struck
Th'annihilating blow.—Ha! heard you that?
[A whistle is heard.
We are beset!—Stand firm.

[Enter Cuthbert Ashton, and followers.
CUTHBERT.
Soho!—At last
We have them. In Lord Clifford's name I ask
What make ye here?

NORTON.
And in our own, we answer,
It does not suit our humour to declare
Our purpose—or to Clifford, or to thee.

CUTHBERT.
Ill-mannered churls! but though ye veil your purpose,
Mine wears no mask. Ye are my prisoners.

NORTON.
Yes—when our good swords fail us—not till then!

CUTHBERT.
Forward, then, lads, and seize them!

NORTON.
Draw—and on!

[A Battle. Cuthbert Ashton falls wounded. Norton stands over him exultingly in the centre of the Stage. The Rangers, prostrate beneath the uplifted weapons of the Outlaws, on each side form a picture.