Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Delphi Poets Series
Page 179
ROBIN and his men.
ROBIN.
All gone! — my ring — I am happy — should be happy.
She took my ring. I trust she loves me — yet
I heard this sheriff tell her he would pay
The mortgage if she favour’d him. I fear
Not her, the father’s power upon her.
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.
SONG.
To sleep! to sleep! The long bright day is done,
And darkness rises from the fallen sun.
To sleep! to sleep!
Whate’er thy joys, they vanish with the day;
Whate’er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away.
To sleep! to sleep!
Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past!
Sleep, happy soul! all life will sleep at last.
To sleep! to sleep!
[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 — drink 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 Saint 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 can sing 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!
Act II
Scene I - 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).
There is no land like England,
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.
(Full chorus).
And these will strike for England,
And man and maid be free,
To foil and spoil the tyrant
Beneath the greenwood tree.
There is no land like England,
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.
(Full chorus)
And these shall wed with freemen,
And all their sons be free,
To sing the songs of England
Beneath the greenwood tree.
ROBIN. (alone).
My lonely hour!
The king of day hath stept from off his throne,
Flun
g by the golden mantle of the cloud,
And sets, a naked fire. The King of England
Perchance this day may sink as gloriously,
Red with his own and enemy’s blood — but no!
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, bade 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.
Am I worse or better?
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.
[Horn blown.
True, were I taken
They would prick out my sight. A price is set
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?
KATE.
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.
Go with him. I will talk with thee anon.
[Exeunt Little John and Kate.
She struck him, my brave Marian, struck the prince,
The serpent that had crept into the garden
And coil’d himself about her sacred waist.
I think I should have stricken him to the death.
He never will forgive her. O, the sheriff
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 fivefold
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 suck 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.
[Knocks at the door of the hut.
OLD WOMAN comes out.
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.
[They go in.
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.
MERCENARY.
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!
ROBIN (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.
[Goes into closet.
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 afeard 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?
ROBIN (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.
[OLD WOMAN yells.
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.
MERCENARY.
Now, if I had n’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.
ROBIN.
Sour milk and black bread.
PRINCE JOHN.
Well, set them forth. I could eat anything.
[He sets out a table with black bread.
This is mere marble. Old hag, how should thy one tooth drill thro’ this?
ROBIN.
Nay, by Saint 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 upon’ 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?
ROBIN.
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.