And yet His men are, even now, guarding your walls! Father, you cannot, you shall not--
Oh, be silent! Who wrapt me in this tangle? Are you bent On driving me out in my old age to seek Shelter in caves and woods?
My good Fitzwalter, It has not come to that! If you will trust me All will be well; but I must speak a word With Robin Hood.
Oh, I have a reason. Your daughter knows his hiding place.
Oh, trust them both for that. I am risking much! To-morrow she shall guide me there. This bird Being flown, trust me to make your peace with John.
She'll be safer far with Robin, Than loitering here until your roof-tree burns. I think you know it. Fitzwalter, I can save you, I swear it on this cross.
Your castle wrapt in flame!... There's nought to fear, If she could--Marian, once, at a court masque, You wore a page's dress of Lincoln green, And a green hood that muffled half your face, I could have sworn 'twas Robin come again-- He was my page, you know-- Wear it to-morrow--go, child, bid your maid Make ready--we'll set out betimes.
I'll go, If you will let me, father. He may be wounded! Father, forgive me. Let me go to him.
Go, child, first do my bidding. He'll consent When you return.
My dear good friend Fitzwalter, Trust me, _I_ have some power with Huntingdon. All shall be as you wish. I'll let her guide me, But--as for her--she shall not even see him Unless you wish. Trust me to wind them all Around my little finger.
It is dark here. Let us within. Madam, I think you are right. And you'll persuade Prince John?
I swear by this, This holy cross, my mother's dying gift!
It's very sure he'd burn the castle down.
[_Coming out into the moonlight and staring up after them._]
The nun! The nun! They'll whip me if I speak, For I am only Shadow-of-a-Leaf, the Fool.
_SCENE I. Sherwood Forest: An open glade, showing on the right the mouth of the outlaw's cave. It is about sunset. The giant figure of LITTLE JOHN comes out of the cave, singing._
When Spring comes back to England And crowns her brows with may, Round the merry moonlit world She goes the greenwood way.
[_He stops and calls in stentorian tones._]
Much! Much! Much! Where has he vanished now, Where has that monstrous giant the miller's son Hidden himself?