________________________________________________
_ ACT IV - SCENE III
[A gloomy cell. ROBIN bound. PRINCE JOHN and two mercenaries. A low narrow door in the background, small barred window on the left.]
PRINCE JOHN.
[To the Mercenaries.]
Leave us a moment. I have private matters
To lay before this friend of all the poor.
You may begin to build the door up now,
So that you do not wall me in with him.
[The two men begin filling up the doorway with rude blocks of masonry.]
So now, my good green foot-pad, you are trapped
At last, trapped in the practice of your trade!
Trapped, as you took your stolen Norman gold
To what was it--a widow, or Saxon serf
With eye put out for breaking forest laws?
You hold with them, it seems. Your dainty soul
Sickens at our gross penalties; and so
We'll not inflict them on your noble self,
Although we have the power. There's not a soul
Can ever tell where Robin Hood is gone.
These walls will never echo it.
[He taps the wall with his sword.]
And yet
There surely must be finer ways to torture
So fine a soul as yours. Was it not you
Who gave me like a fairing to my brother
With lofty condescension in your eyes;
And shall I call my mercenaries in
And bid them burn your eyes out with hot irons?
Richard is gone--he'll never hear of it!
An Earl that plays the robber disappears,
That's all. Most like he died in some low scuffle
Out in the greenwood. I am half inclined
To call for red-hot irons after all,
So that your sympathy with Saxon churls
May be more deep, you understand; and then
It would be sweet for you, alone and blind,
To know that you could never in this life
See Marian's face again. But no--that's bad.
Bad art to put hope's eyes out. It destroys
Half a man's fear to rob him of his hope.
No; you shall drink the dregs of it. Hope shall die
More exquisite a death. Robin, my friend,
You understand that, when I quit your presence,
This bare blank cell becomes your living tomb.
Do you not comprehend? It's none so hard.
The doorway will be built up. There will be
No door, you understand, but just a wall,
Some six feet thick, of solid masonry.
Nobody will disturb you, even to bring
Water or food. You'll starve--see--like a rat,
Bricked up and buried. But you'll have time to think
Of how I tread a measure at the masque
To-night, with Marian, while her wide eyes wonder
Where Robin is--and old Fitzwalter smiles
And bids his girl be gracious to the Prince
For his land's sake. Ah, ha! you wince at that!
Will you not speak a word before I go?
Speak, damn you!
[He strikes ROBIN across the face with his glove. ROBIN remains silent.]
Six days hence, if you keep watch
At yonder window (you'll be hungry then)
You may catch sight of Marian and Prince John
Wandering into the gardens down below.
You will be hungry then; perhaps you'll strive
To call to us, or stretch a meagre arm
Through those strong bars; but then you know the height
Is very great--no voice can reach to the earth:
This is the topmost cell in my Dark Tower.
Men look like ants below there. I shall say
To Marian, See that creature waving there
High up above us, level with the clouds,
Is it not like a winter-shrivelled fly?
And she will laugh; and I will pluck her roses.
And then--and then--there are a hundred ways,
You know, to touch a woman's blood with thoughts
Beyond its lawful limits. Ha! ha! ha!
By God, you almost spoke to me, I think.
Touches at twilight, whispers in the dark,
Sweet sympathetic murmurs o'er the loss
Of her so thoughtless Robin, do you think
Maid Marian will be quite so hard to win
When princes come to woo? There will be none
To interrupt us then. Time will be mine
To practise all the amorous arts of Ovid,
And, at the last--
ROBIN.
Will you not free my hands?
You have your sword. But I would like to fight you
Here, with my naked hands. I want no more.
PRINCE JOHN.
Ha! ha! At last the sullen speaks.
That's all
I wanted. I have struck you in the face.
Is't not enough? You can't repay that blow.
ROBIN.
Bury, me down in hell and I'll repay it
The day you die, across your lying mouth
That spoke of my true lady, I will repay it,
Before the face of God!
PRINCE JOHN.
[Laughing.]
Meanwhile, for me
Till you repay that blow, there is the mouth
Of Marian, the sweet honey-making mouth
That shall forestall your phantom blow with balm.
Oh, you'll go mad too soon if I delay.
I am glad you spoke. Farewell, the masons wait.
And I must not be late for Marian.
[Exit thro' the small aperture now left in the doorway.
It is rapidly closed and sounds of heavy masonry being
piled against it are heard. ROBIN tries to free his
hands and after an effort, succeeds. He hurls himself
against the doorway, and finds it hopeless. He
turns to the window, peers through it for a moment, then
suddenly unwinds a scarf from his neck, ties it to one
of the bars and stands to one side.]
ROBIN.
Too high a shot for most of my good bowmen!
What's that? A miss?
[He looks thro' the window.]
Good lad, he'll try again!
[He stands at the side once more and an arrow comes thro' the window.]
Why, that's like magic!
[He pulls up the thread attached to it.]
Softly, or 'twill break!--
Ah, now 'tis sturdy cord.
--I'll make it fast.
But, how to break these bars!
St. Nicholas,
There's someone climbing. He must have a head
Of iron, and the lightness of a cat!
Downward is bad enough, but up is more
Than mortal! Who the devil can it be?
Thank God, it's growing dark. But what a risk!
None of my merry men could e'en attempt it.
I'm very sure it can't be Little John.
What, Shadow-of-a-Leaf!
[SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF appears at the window.]
'Fore God, dear faithful fool,
I am glad to see you.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF.
Softly, gossip, softly,
Pull up the rope a little until we break
This bar away--or some kind friend may see
The dangling end below. Now here's a toothpick,
Six inches of grey steel, for you to work with,
And here's another for me. Pick out the mortar!
[They work to loosen the bars.]
Wait! Here's a rose I brought you in my cap
And here's a spray of fern! Old Nature's keys
Open all prisons, I'll throw them in for luck,
[He throws them into the cell and begins working feverishly again.]
So that the princes of the world may know
The forest let you out. Down there on earth,
If any sees me, they will only think
The creepers are in leaf. Pick out the mortar!
That's how the greenwood works. You know, 'twill thrust
Its tendrils through these big grey stones one day
And pull them down. I noticed in the courtyard
The grass is creeping though the crevices
Already, and yellow dandelions crouch
In all the crumbling corners. Pick it out!
This is a very righteous work indeed
For men in Lincoln green; for what are we
But tendrils of old Nature, herald sprays!
We scarce anticipate. Pick the mortar out.
Quick, there's no time to lose, although to-night
We're in advance of sun and moon and stars
And all the tackling sands in Time's turned glass.
[With a sudden cry.]
Richard is dead!
ROBIN.
Richard is dead! The King
Is dead!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF.
Ah, dead! Come, pick the mortar out,
Out of the walls of towers and shrines and tombs!
For now Prince John is King, and Lady Marian
In peril, gossip! Yet we are in advance
Of sun and moon to-night, for sweet Prince John
Is not aware yet of his kinglihood,
Or of his brother's death.
ROBIN.
[Pausing a moment.]
Why, Shadow-of-a-Leaf,
What does this mean?
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF.
Come, pick the mortar out;
You have no time to lose. This very night
My Lady Marian must away to Sherwood.
At any moment the dread word may come
That makes John King of England. Quick, be quick!
ROBIN.
She is at the masque to-night!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF.
Then you must mask
And fetch her thence! Ah, ha, the bar works loose.
Pull it!
[They pull at the bar, get it free, and throw it into the cell.]
Now, master, follow me down the rope.
[Exit ROBIN thro' the window.] _
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