Chapter IX: Act V (1)

SCENE I. _Morning. Sherwood Forest (as before). LITTLE JOHN and some of the OUTLAWS are gathered together talking. Occasionally they look anxiously toward the cave and at the approaches through the wood. Enter two FORESTERS, running and breathless._

FIRST FORESTER

The King's men! They are scouring thro' the wood,
Two troops of them, five hundred men in each
And more are following.

SECOND FORESTER

We must away from here
And quickly.

LITTLE JOHN

Where did you sight them?

SECOND FORESTER

From the old elm,
Our watch-tower. They were not five miles away!

FIRST FORESTER

Five, about five. We saw the sunlight flash
Along, at least five hundred men at arms;
And, to the north, along another line,
Bigger, I think; but not so near.

SECOND FORESTER

Where's Robin?
We must away at once!

FIRST FORESTER

No time to lose!

LITTLE JOHN

His wound is bitter--I know not if we dare
Move him!

FIRST FORESTER

His wound?

LITTLE JOHN

Ay, some damned arrow pierced him
When he escaped last night from the Dark Tower.
He never spoke of it when first he reached us;
And, suddenly, he swooned. He is asleep
Now. He must not be wakened. They will take
Some time yet ere they thread our forest-maze.

FIRST FORESTER

Not long, by God, not long. They are moving fast.

[_MARIAN appears at the mouth of the cave. All turn to look at
her, expectantly. She seems in distress._]

MARIAN

He is tossing to and fro. I think his wound
Has taken fever! What can we do?

FRIAR TUCK

I've sent
A messenger to Kirklee Priory,
Where my old friend the Prioress hath store
Of balms and simples, and hath often helped
A wounded forester. Could we take him there,
Her skill would quickly heal him.

LITTLE JOHN

The time is pressing!

FRIAR TUCK

The lad will not be long!

[_ROBIN appears tottering and white at the mouth of the cave._]

MARIAN

[_Running to him._]

O Robin, Robin,
You must not rise! Your wound!

ROBIN

[_He speaks feverishly._]

Where can I rest
Better than on my greenwood throne of turf?
Friar, I heard them say they had some prisoners.
Bring them before me.

FRIAR TUCK

Master, you are fevered,
And they can wait.

ROBIN

Yes, yes; but there are some
That cannot wait, that die for want of food,
And then--the Norman gold will come too late,
Too late.

LITTLE JOHN
O master, you must rest.

[_Going up to him._]

MARIAN
Oh, help me,
Help me with him. Help me to lead him back.

ROBIN

No! No! You must not touch me! I will rest
When I have seen the prisoners, not before.

LITTLE JOHN

He means it, mistress, better humour him
Or he will break his wound afresh.

MARIAN

O Robin,
Give me your word that you'll go back and rest,
When you have seen them.

ROBIN

Yes, I will try, I will try!
But oh, the sunlight! Where better, sweet, than this?

[_She leads him to the throne of turf and he sits down upon it, with
MARIAN at his side._]

The Friar is right. This life is wine, red wine,
Under the greenwood boughs! Oh, still to keep it,
One little glen of justice in the midst
Of multitudinous wrong. Who knows? We yet
May leaven the whole world.

[_Enter the Outlaws, with several prisoners, among them, a
KNIGHT, an ABBOT, and a FORESTER._]

Those are the prisoners?
You had some victims of the forest laws
That came to you for help. Bring them in, too,
And set them over against these lords of the earth!

[_Some ragged women and children appear. Several serfs with
iron collars round their necks and their eyes put out,
are led gently in._]

Is that our Lincoln green among the prisoners?
There? One of my own band?

LITTLE JOHN

Ay, more's the pity!
We took him out of pity, and he has wronged
Our honour, sir; he has wronged a helpless woman
Entrusted to his guidance thro' the forest.

ROBIN

Ever the same, the danger comes from those
We fight for, those below, not those above!
Which of you will betray me to the King?

THE FORESTER

Do you ask _me_, sir?

ROBIN

Judas answered first,
With "Master, is it I?" Hang not thy head!
What say'st thou to this charge?

THE FORESTER

Why, Friar Tuck
Can answer for me. Do you think he cares
Less for a woman's lips than I?

FRIAR TUCK

Cares less,
Thou rotten radish? Nay, but a vast deal more!
God's three best gifts to man,--woman and song
And wine, what dost _thou_ know of all their joy?
Thou lean pick-purse of kisses?

ROBIN

Take him out,
Friar, and let him pack his goods and go,
Whither he will. I trust the knave to thee
And thy good quarter-staff, for some five minutes
Before he says "Farewell."

FRIAR

Bring him along,
Give him a quarter-staff, I'll thrash him roundly.

[_He goes out. Two of the FORESTERS follow with the prisoner.
Others bring the ABBOT before ROBIN._]

ROBIN

Ah! Ha! I know him, the godly usurer
Of York!

LITTLE JOHN

We saw a woman beg for alms,
One of the sufferers by the rule which gave
This portly Norman his fat priory
And his abundant lands. We heard him say
That he was helpless, had not one poor coin
To give her, not a scrap of bread! He wears
Purple beneath his cloak: his fine sleek palfrey
Flaunted an Emperor's trappings!

ABBOT

Man, the Church
Must keep her dignity!

ROBIN

[_Pointing to the poor woman, etc._]

Ay, look at it!
There is your dignity! And you must wear
Silk next your skin to show it. But there was one
You call your Master, and He had not where
To lay His head, save one of these same trees!

ABBOT

Do you blaspheme! I pray you, let me go!
There are grave matters waiting. I am poor!

ROBIN

Look in his purse and see.

ABBOT

[_Hurriedly._]

I have five marks
In all the world, no more. I'll give them to you!

ROBIN

Look in his purse and see.

[_They pour a heap of gold out of his purse._]

ROBIN

Five marks, Indeed!
Here's, at the least, a hundred marks in gold!

ABBOT

That is my fees, my fees; you must not take them!

ROBIN

The ancient miracle!--five loaves, two small fishes;
And then--of what remained--they gathered up
Twelve basketsful!

ABBOT

Oh, you blaspheming villains!

ROBIN

Abbot, I chance to know how this was wrought,
This miracle; wrought with the blood, anguish and sweat
Of toiling peasants, while the cobwebs clustered
Around your lordly cellars of red wine.
Give him his five and let him go.

ABBOT

[_Going out._]

The King
Shall hear of this! The King will hunt you down!

ROBIN

And now--the next!

SCARLET

Beseech you, sir, to rest,
Your wound will--

ROBIN

No! The next, show me the next!

SCARLET

This Norman baron--

ROBIN

What, another friend!
Another master of broad territories.
How many homes were burned to make you lord
Of half a shire? What hath he in his purse?

SCARLET

Gold and to spare!

BARON

To keep up mine estate
I need much more.

ROBIN

[_Pointing to the poor._]

Ay, you need these! these! these!

BARON

[_Protesting._]

I am not rich.

ROBIN

Look in his purse and see.

BARON

You dogs, the King shall hear of it!

ROBIN

[_Murmuring as if to himself._]

Five loaves!
And yet, of what remained, they gathered up
Twelve basketsful. The bread of human kindness
Goes far! Oh, I begin to see new meanings
In that old miracle! How much? How much?

SCARLET

Five hundred marks in gold!

ROBIN

[_Half rising and speaking with a sudden passion._]

His churls are starving,
Starving! Their little children cry for bread!
One of those jewels on his baldric there
Would feed them all in plenty all their lives!
Five loaves--and yet--and yet--of what remained,
The fragments, mark you, twelve great basketsful!

BARON

I am in a madman's power! The man is mad!

ROBIN

Take all he has, all you can get. To-night,
When all is dark (we must have darkness, mind,
For deeds like this) blind creatures will creep out
With groping hands and gaping mouths, lean arms,
And shrivelled bodies, branded, fettered, lame,
Distorted, horrible; and they will weep
Great tears like gouts of blood upon our feet,
And we shall succour them and make them think
(That's if you have not mangled their poor souls
As well, or burned their children with their homes),
We'll try to make them think that some few roods
Of earth are not so bitter as hell might be.
Are you not glad to think of this? Nay--go--
Or else your face will haunt me when I die!
Take him quickly away. The next! The next!
O God!

[_Flings up his arms and falls fainting._]

MARIAN

[_Bending over him._]

O Robin! Robin! Help him quickly.
The wound! The wound!

[_They gather round ROBIN. The OUTLAWS come back with the
captive FORESTER, his pack upon his back._]

FRIAR TUCK

[_To the FORESTER._]

Now, get you gone and quickly!
What, what hath happened?

[_FRIAR TUCK and the OUTLAWS join the throng round ROBIN. The
FORESTER shakes his fist at them and goes across the glade
muttering. The MESSENGER from Kirklee Priory comes out of the
forest at the same moment and speaks to him, not knowing of his
dismissal._]

MESSENGER

All's well! Robin can come
To Kirklee. Our old friend the Prioress
Is there, and faithful! They've all balms and simples
To heal a wound.

FORESTER

[_Staring at him._]

To Kirklee?

MESSENGER

Yes, at sunset,
We'll take him to the borders of the wood
All will be safe.
Where he can steal in easily, alone.

FORESTER

The King's men are at hand!

MESSENGER

Oh, but if we can leave him there, all's safe;
We'll dodge the King's men.

FORESTER

When is he to go?

MESSENGER

Almost at once; but he must not steal in
Till sundown, when the nuns are all in chapel.
How now? What's this? What's this?

[_He goes across to the throng round ROBIN._]

FORESTER

[_Looking after him._]

Alone, to Kirklee!

[_Exit._]

SCENE II. _A room in Kirklee Priory. A window on the right overlooks a cloister leading up to the chapel door. The forest is seen in the distance, the sun beginning to set behind it. The PRIORESS and a NOVICE are sitting in a window-seat engaged in broidery work._

NOVICE

He must be a good man--this Robin Hood!
I long to see him. Father used to say
England had known none like him since the days
Of Hereward the Wake.

PRIORESS

He will be here
By vespers. You shall let him in. Who's that?
Can that be he? It is not sundown yet.
See who is there.

[_Exit NOVICE. She returns excitedly._]

NOVICE

A lady asks to see you!
She is robed like any nun and yet she spoke
Like a great lady--one that is used to rule
More than obey; and on her breast I saw
A ruby smouldering like a secret fire
Beneath her cloak. She bade me say she came
On Robin Hood's behest.

PRIORESS

What? Bring her in
Quickly.

[_Exit NOVICE and returns with QUEEN ELINOR in a nun's garb. At
the sign from the PRIORESS the NOVICE retires._]

ELINOR

Madam, I come to beg a favour.
I am a friend of Robin Hood. I have heard--
One of his Foresters, this very noon
Brought me the news--that he is sorely wounded;
And purposes to seek your kindly help
At Kirklee Priory.

PRIORESS

Oh, then indeed,
You must be a great friend, for this was kept
Most secret from all others.

ELINOR

A great friend!
He was my page some fifteen years ago,
And all his life I have watched over him
As if he were my son! I have come to beg
A favour--let me see him when he comes.
My husband was a soldier, and I am skilled
In wounds. In Palestine I saved his life
When every leech despaired of it, a wound
Caused by a poisoned arrow.

PRIORESS

You shall see him.
I have some skill myself in balms and simples,
But, in these deadlier matters I would fain
Trust to your wider knowledge.

ELINOR

Let me see him alone;
Alone, you understand. His mind is fevered.
I have an influence over him. Do not say
That I am here, or aught that will excite him.
Better say nothing--lead him gently in,
And leave him. In my hands he is like a child.

PRIORESS

It shall be done. I see you are subtly versed
In the poor workings of our mortal minds.

ELINOR

I learnt much from a wise old Eastern leech
When I was out in Palestine.

PRIORESS

I have heard
They have great powers and magic remedies;
They can restore youth to the withered frame.

ELINOR

There is only one thing that they cannot do.

PRIORESS

And what?

ELINOR

They cannot raise the dead.

PRIORESS

Ah, no;
I am most glad to hear you say it, most glad
To know we think alike. That is most true--
Yes--yes--most true; for God alone, dear friend,
Can raise the dead!

[_A bell begins tolling slowly._]

The bell for even-song!
You have not long to wait.

[_Shadowy figures of nuns pass the windows and enter the chapel.
The sunset deepens._]

Will you not pray
With me?

[_The PRIORESS and QUEEN ELINOR kneel down together before a
little shrine. Enter the NOVICE._]

NOVICE

There is a forester at the door.
Mother, I think 'tis he!

PRIORESS

[_Rising._]

Admit him, then.

ELINOR

Leave me: I will keep praying till he comes.

PRIORESS

You are trembling! You are not afraid?

ELINOR

[_With eyes closed as in strenuous devotion._]

No; no;
Leave me, I am but praying!

[_A chant swells up in the chapel. Exit PRIORESS. ELINOR continues
muttering as in prayer. Enter ROBIN HOOD,
steadying himself on his bow, weak and white. She
rises and passes between him and the door to confront
him._]

ELINOR

Ah, Robin, you have come to me at last
For healing. Pretty Marian cannot help you
With all her kisses.

ROBIN HOOD

[_Staring at her wildly._]

You! I did not know
That you were here. I did not ask your help.
I must go--Marian!

[_He tries to reach the door, but reels in a half faint on the way.
ELINOR supports him as he pauses, panting for breath._]

ELINOR

Robin, your heart is hard,
Both to yourself and me. You cannot go,
Rejecting the small help which I can give
As if I were a leper. Ah, come back.
Are you so unforgiving? God forgives!
Did you not see me praying for your sake?
Think, if you think not of yourself, oh, think
Of Marian--can you leave her clinging arms
Yet, for the cold grave, Robin? I have risked
Much, life itself, to bring you help this day!
I have some skill in wounds.

[_She holds him closer and brings her face near to his own, looking
into his eyes._]

Ah, do you know
How slowly, how insidiously this death
Creeps, coil by tightening coil, around a man,
When he is weak as you are? Do you know
How the last subtle coil slips round your throat
And the flat snake-like head lifts up and peers
With cruel eyes of cold, keen inquisition,
Rivetting your own, until the blunt mouth sucks
Your breath out with one long, slow, poisonous kiss?

ROBIN HOOD

O God, that nightmare! Leave me! Let me go!

ELINOR

You stare at me as if you saw that snake.
Ha! Ha! Your nerves are shaken; you are so weak!
You cannot go! What! Fainting? Ah, rest here
Upon this couch.

[_She half supports, half thrusts him back to a couch, in an alcove
out of sight and draws a curtain. There is a knock at
the door._]

ELINOR

Who's there?

PRIORESS

Madam, I came
To know if I could help in anything.

ELINOR

Nothing! His blood runs languidly. It needs
The pricking of a vein to make the heart
Beat, and the sluggish rivers flow. I have brought
A lance for it. I'll let a little blood.
Not over-much; enough, enough to set
The pulses throbbing.

PRIORESS

Maid Marian came with him.
She waits without and asks--

ELINOR

Let her not come
Near him till all is done. Let her not know
Anything, or the old fever will awake.
I'll lance his arm now!

[_The PRIORESS closes the door. ELINOR goes into the alcove. The
chant from the chapel swells up again. QUEEN
ELINOR comes out of the alcove, white and trembling.
She speaks in a low whisper as she looks back._]

Now, trickle down, sweet blood. Grow white, fond lips
That have kissed Marian--yet, she shall not boast
You kissed her last; for I will have you wake
To the fierce memory of this kiss in heaven
Or burn with it in hell;

[_She kneels down as if to kiss the face of ROBIN, within. The
chant from the chapel swells up more loudly. The door
slowly opens. MARIAN steals in. ELINOR rises and confronts
her._]

ELINOR

[_Laying a hand upon ROBIN'S bow beside her._]

Hush! Do not wake him!

MARIAN

[_In a low voice._]

What have you done with him?

ELINOR

[_As MARIAN advances towards the couch._]

He is asleep.
Hush! Not a step further! Stay where you are! His life
Hangs on a thread.

MARIAN
Why do you stare upon me?
What have you done? What's this that trickles down--

[_Stoops to the floor and leaps back with a scream._]

It is blood. You have killed him!

ELINOR

[_Seizes the bow and shoots. MARIAN falls._]

Follow him--down to hell.
King John will find you there.

[_Exit. The scene grows dark._]

MARIAN

[_Lifts her head with a groan._]

I am dying, Robin!
O God, I cannot wake him! Robin! Robin!
Give me one word to take into the dark!
He will not wake! He will not wake! O God,
Help him!

[_She falls back unconscious. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF, a green spray
in his hand, opens the casement and stands for a moment
in the window against the last glow of sunset, then
enters and runs to the side of ROBIN._]

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

[_Hurriedly._]

Awake, awake, Robin, awake!
The forest waits to help you! All the leaves
Are listening for your bugle. Ah, where is it?
Let but one echo sound and the wild flowers
Will break thro' these grey walls and the green sprays
Drag down these deadly towers. Wake, Robin, wake,
And let the forest drown the priest's grey song
With happy murmurs. Robin, the gates are open
For you and Marian! All I had to give
I have given to thrust them open, the dear gates
Of fairyland which I shall never pass
Again. I can no more, I am but a shadow,
Dying as mortals die! It is not I
That calls, not I, but Marian. Hear her voice!
Robin, awake!
O, master mine, farewell!

[_Exit lingeringly through the casement._]

ROBIN

[_ROBIN is dimly seen in the mouth of the alcove. He stretches out
his hands blindly in the dark._]

Marian! Why do you call to me in dreams?
Why do you call me? I must go. What's this?
Help me, kind God, for I must say one word,
Only one word--good-bye--to Marian,
To Marian--Ah, too weak, too weak!

[_He sees the dark body of MARIAN and utters a cry, falling on his
knees beside her._]

O God,
Marian! Marian!
My bugle! Ah, my bugle!

[_He rises to his feet and, drowning the distant organ-music, he
blows a resounding forest-call. It is answered by several
in the forest. He falls on his knees by MARIAN and
takes her in his arms._]

O Marian, Marian, who hath used thee so?

MARIAN

Robin, it is my death-wound. Ah, come close.

ROBIN

Marian, Marian, what have they done to thee?

[_The OUTLAWS are heard thundering at the gates with cries._]

OUTLAWS

Robin! Robin! Robin! Break down the doors.

[_The terrified nuns stream past the window, out of the chapel.
The OUTLAWS rush into the room. The scene still
darkens._]

SCARLET

Robin and Marian!

LITTLE JOHN

Christ, what devil's hand
Hath played the butcher here? Quick, hunt them down,
They passed out yonder. Let them not outlive
Our murdered king and queen.

REYNOLD GREENLEAF

O Robin, Robin,
Who shot this bitter shaft into her breast?

[_Several stoop and kneel by the two lovers._]

ROBIN HOOD

Speak to me, Marian, speak to me, only speak!
Just one small word, one little loving word
Like those--do you remember?--you have breathed
So many a time and often, against my cheek,
Under the boughs of Sherwood, in the dark
At night, with nothing but the boughs and stars
Between us and the dear God up in heaven!
O God, why does a man's heart take so long
To break? It would break sooner if you spoke
A word to me, a word, one small kind word.

MARIAN

Sweetheart!

ROBIN

Sweetheart! You have broken it, broken it! Oh, kind,
Kind heart of Marian!

MARIAN

Robin, come soon!

[_Dies._]

ROBIN

Soon, sweetheart! Oh, her sweet brave soul is gone!
Marian, I follow quickly!

SCARLET

God, Kirklee
Shall burn for this!

LITTLE JOHN

Kirklee shall burn for this!
O master, master, you shall be avenged!

ROBIN

No; let me stand upright! Your hand, good Scarlet!
We have lived our lives and God be thanked we go
Together thro' this darkness. We shall wake,
Please God, together. It is growing darker!
I cannot see your faces. Give me my bow
Quickly into my hands, for my strength fails
And I must shoot one last shaft on the trail
Of yonder setting sun, never to reach it!
But where this last, last bolt of all my strength,
My hope, my love, shall fall, there bury us both,
Together, and tread the green turf over us!
The bow!

[_SCARLET hands him his bow. He stands against the faint glow
of the window, draws the bow to full length, shoots and
falls back into the arms of LITTLE JOHN._]

LITTLE JOHN

[_Laying him down._]

Weep, England, for thine outlawed lover,
Dear Robin Hood, the poor man's friend, is dead.

[_The scene becomes quite dark. Then out of the darkness, and as
if at a distance, the voice of SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF is
heard singing the fairy song of the first scene. The
fairy glade in Sherwood begins to be visible in the gloom
by the soft light of the ivory gates which are swinging
open once more among the ferns. As the scene grows
clearer the song of SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF grows more and
more triumphant and is gradually caught up by the
chorus of the fairy host within the woods._]

[_Song of SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF._]

I

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
The world begins again!
And O, the red of the roses,
And the rush of the healing rain!

II

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
The Princess wakes from sleep;
For the soft green keys of the wood-land
Have opened her donjon-keep!

III

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
Their grey walls hemmed us round;
But, under my greenwood oceans,
Their castles are trampled and drowned.

IV

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
My green sprays climbed on high,
And the ivy laid hold on their turrets
And haled them down from the sky!

V

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
They were strong! They are overthrown!
For the little soft hands of the wild-flowers
Have broken them, stone by stone.

VI

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
Though Robin lie dead, lie dead,
And the green turf by Kirklee
Lie light over Marian's head,

VII

Green ferns on the crimson sky-line,
What bugle have you heard?
Was it only the peal of the blue-bells,
Was it only the call of a bird?

VIII

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
The rose o'er the fortalice floats!
My nightingales chant in their chapels,
My lilies have bridged their moats!

IX

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
King Death, in the light of the sun,
Shrinks like an elfin shadow!
His reign is over and done!

X

The hawthorn whitens the wood-land;
My lovers, awake, awake,
Shake off the grass-green coverlet,
Glide, bare-foot, thro' the brake!

XI

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
And, under the great green boughs,
I have found out a place for my lovers,
I have built them a beautiful house.

XII

Green ferns in the dawn-red dew-fall,
This gift by my death I give,--
They shall wander immortal thro' Sherwood!
In my great green house they shall live!

XIII

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
When the first wind blows from the South,
They shall meet by the Gates of Faerie!
She shall set her mouth to his mouth!

XIV

He shall gather her, fold her and keep her;
They shall pass thro' the Gates, they shall live!
For the Forest, the Forest has conquered!
This gift by my death I give!

XV

The Forest has conquered! The Forest has conquered!
The Forest has conquered!
The world awakes anew;
And O, the scent of the hawthorn,
And the drip of the healing dew!

[_The song ceases. TITANIA and OBERON come out into the moon-lit
glade._]

OBERON

Yet one night more the gates of fairyland
Are opened by a mortal's kindly deed.
But Robin Hood and Marian now are driven
As we shall soon be driven, from the world
Of cruel mortals.

TITANIA

Mortals call them dead;
Oberon, what is death?

OBERON

Only a sleep.
But these may dream their happy dreams in death
Before they wake to that new lovely life
Beyond the shadows; for poor Shadow-of-a-Leaf
Has given them this by love's eternal law
Of sacrifice, and they shall enter in
To dream their lover's dream in fairyland.

TITANIA

And Shadow-of-a-Leaf?

OBERON

He cannot enter now.
The gates are closed against him.

TITANIA

But is this
For ever?

OBERON
We fairies have not known or heard
What waits for those who, like this wandering Fool,
Throw all away for love. But I have heard
There is a great King, out beyond the world,
Not Richard, who is dead, nor yet King John;
But a great King who one day will come home
Clothed with the clouds of heaven from His Crusade.

TITANIA

The great King!

OBERON

Hush, the poor dark mortals come!

[_The crowd of serfs, old men, poor women, and children, begin to
enter as the fairy song swells up within the gates again.
ROBIN and MARIAN are led along by a crowd of fairies
at the end of the procession._]

TITANIA

And there, see, there come Robin and his bride.
And the fairies lead them on, strewing their path
With ferns and moon-flowers. See, they have entered in!

[_The last fairy vanishes thro' the gates._]

OBERON

And we must follow, for the gates may close
For ever now. Hundreds of years may pass
Before another mortal gives his life
To help the poor and needy.

[_OBERON and TITANIA follow hand in hand thro' the gates. They
begin to close. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF steals wistfully
and hesitatingly across, as if to enter. They close
in his face. He goes up to them and leans against
them sobbing, a small green figure, looking like a
greenwood spray against their soft ivory glow. The
fairy music dies. He sinks to his knees and holds up
his hands. Immediately a voice is heard singing and
drawing nearer thro' the forest._]

[_Song--drawing nearer._]

Knight on the narrow way,
Where wouldst thou ride?
"Onward," I heard him say,
"Love, to thy side!"

"Nay," sang a bird above,
"Stay, for I see
Death in the mask of love
Waiting for thee."

[_Enter BLONDEL, leading a great white steed. He stops and looks
at the kneeling figure._]

BLONDEL

Shadow-of-a-Leaf!

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

[_Rising to his feet._]

Blondel!

BLONDEL

I go to seek
My King!

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

[_In passionate grief._]

The King is dead!

BLONDEL

[_In yet more passionate joy and triumph._]

The great King lives!

[_Then more tenderly._]

Will you not come and look for Him with me?

[_They go slowly together through the forest and are lost to sight.
BLONDEL'S voice is heard singing the third stanza
of the song in the distance, further and further away._]

"Death? What is Death?" he cried.
"I must ride on!"

[_Curtain._]

TALES OF THE MERMAID TAVERN

I

A KNIGHT OF THE OCEAN-SEA

Under that foggy sunset London glowed,
Like one huge cob-webbed flagon of old wine.
And, as I walked down Fleet Street, the soft sky
Mowed thro' the roaring thoroughfares, transfused
Their hard sharp outlines, blurred the throngs of black
On either pavement, blurred the rolling stream
Of red and yellow busses, till the town
Turned to a golden suburb of the clouds.
And, round that mighty bubble of St. Paul's,
Over the up-turned faces of the street,
An air-ship slowly sailed, with whirring fans,
A voyager in the new-found realms of gold,
A shadowy silken chrysalis whence should break
What radiant wings in centuries to be.

So, wandering on, while all the shores of Time
Softened into Eternity, it seemed
A dead man touched me with his living hand,
A flaming legend passed me in the streets
Of London--laugh who will--that City of Clouds,
Where what a dreamer yet, in spite of all,
Is man, that splendid visionary child
Who sent his fairy beacon through the dusk,
On a blue bus before the moon was risen,--
_This Night, at eight, The Tempest!_

Dreaming thus,
(Small wonder that my footsteps went astray!)
I found myself within a narrow street,
Alone. There was no rumour, near or far,
Of the long tides of traffic. In my doubt
I turned and knocked upon an old inn-door,
Hard by, an ancient inn of mullioned panes,
And crazy beams and over-hanging eaves:
And, as I knocked, the slowly changing west
Seemed to change all the world with it and leave
Only that old inn steadfast and unchanged,
A rock in the rich-coloured tides of time.

And, suddenly, as a song that wholly escapes
Remembrance, at one note, wholly returns,
There, as I knocked, memory returned to me.
I knew it all--the little twisted street,
The rough wet cobbles gleaming, far away,
Like opals, where it ended on the sky;
And, overhead, the darkly smiling face
Of that old wizard inn; I knew by rote
The smooth sun-bubbles in the worn green paint
Upon the doors and shutters.

There was one
Myself had idly scratched away one dawn,
One mad May-dawn, three hundred years ago,
When out of the woods we came with hawthorn boughs
And found the doors locked, as they seemed to-night.
Three hundred years ago--nay, Time was dead!
No need to scan the sign-board any more
Where that white-breasted siren of the sea
Curled her moon-silvered tail among such rocks
As never in the merriest seaman's tale
Broke the blue-bliss of fabulous lagoons
Beyond the Spanish Main.

And, through the dream,
Even as I stood and listened, came a sound
Of clashing wine-cups: then a deep-voiced song
Made the old timbers of the Mermaid Inn
Shake as a galleon shakes in a gale of wind
When she rolls glorying through the Ocean-sea.

SONG

I

Marchaunt Adventurers, chanting at the windlass,
Early in the morning, we slipped from Plymouth Sound,
All for Adventure in the great New Regions,
All for Eldorado and to sail the world around!
Sing! the red of sun-rise ripples round the bows again.
Marchaunt Adventurers, O sing, we're outward bound,
All to stuff the sunset in our old black galleon,
All to seek the merchandise that no man ever found.

_Chorus:_ Marchaunt Adventurers!
Marchaunt Adventurers!

Marchaunt Adventurers, O, whither are ye bound?--
All for Eldorado and the great new Sky-line,
All to seek the merchandise that no man ever found.

II

Marchaunt Adventurers, O, what'ull ye bring home again?--
Wonders and works and the thunder of the sea!
Whom will ye traffic with?--The King of the Sunset!
What shall be your pilot then?--A wind from Galilee.
Nay, but ye be marchaunts, will ye come back empty-handed?--
Ay, we be marchaunts, though our gain we ne'er shall see.
Cast we now our bread upon the waste wild waters.
After many days, it shall return with usury.

_Chorus:_ Marchaunt Adventurers!
Marchaunt Adventurers!

What shall be your profit in the mighty days to be?--
Englande!--Englande!--Englande!--Englande!--
Glory everlasting and the lordship of the sea!

And there, framed in the lilac patch of sky
That ended the steep street, dark on its light,
And standing on those glistering cobblestones
Just where they took the sunset's kiss, I saw
A figure like foot-feathered Mercury,
Tall, straight and splendid as a sunset-cloud.

Clad in a crimson doublet and trunk-hose,
A rapier at his side; and, as he paused,
His long fantastic shadow swayed and swept
Against my feet.

A moment he looked back,
Then swaggered down as if he owned a world
Which had forgotten--did I wake or dream?--
Even his gracious ghost!

Over his arm
He swung a gorgeous murrey-coloured cloak
Of Ciprus velvet, caked and smeared with mud
As on the day when--did I dream or wake?
And had not all this happened once before?--
When he had laid that cloak before the feet
Of Gloriana! By that mud-stained cloak,
'Twas he! Our Ocean-Shepherd! Walter Raleigh!
He brushed me passing, and with one vigorous thrust
Opened the door and entered. At his heels
I followed--into the Mermaid!--through three yards
Of pitch-black gloom, then into an old inn-parlour
Swimming with faces in a mist of smoke
That up-curled, blue, from long Winchester pipes,
While--like some rare old picture, in a dream
Recalled--quietly listening, laughing, watching,
Pale on that old black oaken wainscot floated
One bearded oval face, young, with deep eyes,
Whom Raleigh hailed as "Will!"

But as I stared
A sudden buffet from a brawny hand
Made all my senses swim, and the room rang
With laughter as upon the rush-strewn floor
My feet slipped and I fell. Then a gruff voice
Growled over me--"Get up now, John-a-dreams,
Or else mine host must find another drawer!
Hast thou not heard us calling all this while?"
And, as I scrambled up, the rafters rang
With cries of "Sack! Bring me a cup of sack!
Canary! Sack! Malmsey! and Muscadel!"
I understood and flew. I was awake,
A leather-jerkined pot-boy to these gods,
A prentice Ganymede to the Mermaid Inn!

There, flitting to and fro with cups of wine,
I heard them toss the Chrysomelan names
From mouth to mouth--Lyly and Peele and Lodge,
Kit Marlowe, Michael Drayton, and the rest,
With Ben, rare Ben, brick-layer Ben, who rolled
Like a great galleon on his ingle-bench.
Some twenty years of age he seemed; and yet
This young Gargantua with the bull-dog jaws,
The T, for Tyburn, branded on his thumb,
And grim pock-pitted face, was growling tales
To Dekker that would fright a buccaneer.--
How in the fierce Low Countries he had killed
His man, and won that scar on his bronzed fist;
Was taken prisoner, and turned Catholick;
And, now returned to London, was resolved
To blast away the vapours of the town
With Boreas-throated plays of thunderous mirth.
"I'll thwack their Tribulation-Wholesomes, lad,
Their Yellow-faced Envies and lean Thorns-i'-the-Flesh,
At the _Black-friars Theatre_, or _The Rose_,
Or else _The Curtain_. Failing these, I'll find
Some good square inn-yard with wide galleries,
And windows level with the stage. 'Twill serve
My Comedy of Vapours; though, I grant.
For Tragedy a private House is best,
Or, just as Burbage tip-toes to a deed
Of blood, or, over your stable's black half-door,
Marked _Battlements_ in white chalk, your breathless David
Glowers at the whiter Bathsheba within,
Some humorous coach-horse neighs a 'hallelujah'!
And the pit splits its doublets. Over goes
The whole damned apple-barrel, and the yard
Is all one rough and tumble, scramble and scratch
Of prentices, green madams, and cut-purses
For half-chewed Norfolk pippins. Never mind!
We'll build the perfect stage in Shoreditch yet.
And Will, there, hath half promised I shall write
A piece for his own company! What d'ye think
Of _Venus and Adonis_, his first heir,
Printed last week? A bouncing boy, my lad!
And he's at work on a Midsummer's Dream
That turns the world to fairyland!"

All these
And many more were there, and all were young!
There, as I brimmed their cups, I heard the voice
Of Raleigh ringing across the smoke-wreathed room,--
"Ben, could you put a frigate on the stage,
I've found a tragedy for you. Have you heard
The true tale of Sir Humphrey Gilbert?"

"No!"

"Why, Ben, of all the tragical affairs
Of the Ocean-sea, and of that other Ocean
Where all men sail so blindly, and misjudge
Their friends, their charts, their storms, their stars, their God,
If there be truth in the blind crowder's song
I bought in Bread Street for a penny, this
Is the brief type and chronicle of them all.
Listen!" Then Raleigh sent these rugged rhymes
Of some blind crowder rolling in great waves
Of passion across the gloom. At each refrain
He sank his voice to a broad deep undertone,
As if the distant roar of breaking surf
Or the low thunder of eternal tides
Filled up the pauses of the nearer storm,
Storm against storm, a soul against the sea:--

A KNIGHT OF THE OCEAN-SEA

Sir Humphrey Gilbert, hard of hand,
Knight-in-chief of the Ocean-sea,
Gazed from the rocks of his New Found Land
And thought of the home where his heart would be.

He gazed across the wintry waste
That weltered and hissed like molten lead,--
"He saileth twice who saileth in haste!
I'll wait the favour of Spring," he said.

_Ever the more, ever the more,
He heard the winds and the waves roar!
Thunder on thunder shook the shore._

The yellow clots of foam went by
Like shavings that curl from a ship-wright's plane,
Clinging and flying, afar and nigh,
Shuddering, flying and clinging again.

A thousand bubbles in every one
Shifted and shimmered with rainbow gleams;
But--had they been planets and stars that spun
He had let them drift by his feet like dreams:

Heavy of heart was our Admirall,
For, out of his ships--and they were but three!--
He had lost the fairest and most tall,
And--he was a Knight of the Ocean-sea.

_Ever the more, ever the more,
He heard the winds and the waves roar!
Thunder on thunder shook the shore._

Heavy of heart, heavy of heart,
For she was a galleon mighty as May,
And the storm that ripped her glory apart
Had stripped his soul for the winter's way;

And he was aware of a whisper blown
From foc'sle to poop, from windward to lee,
That the fault was his, and his alone,
And--he was a Knight of the Ocean-sea.

"Had he done that! Had he done this!"
And yet his mariners loved him well;
But an idle word is hard to miss,
And the foam hides more than the deep can tell.

And the deep had buried his best-loved books,
With many a hard-worn chart and plan:
And a king that is conquered must see strange looks,
So bitter a thing is the heart of man!

And--"Who will you find to pay your debt?
For a venture like this is a costly thing!
Will they stake yet more, tho' your heart be set
On the mightier voyage you planned for the Spring?"

He raised his head like a Viking crowned,--
"I'll take my old flag to her Majestie,
And she will lend me ten thousand pound
To make her Queen of the Ocean-sea!"

_Ever the more, ever the more,
He heard the winds and the waves roar!
Thunder on thunder shook the shore._

Outside--they heard the great winds blow!
Outside--the blustering surf they heard,
And the bravest there would ha' blenched to know
That they must be taken at their own word.

For the great grim waves were as molten lead
--And he had two ships who sailed with three!--
"And I sail not home till the Spring," he said,
"They are all too frail for the Ocean-sea."

But the trumpeter thought of an ale-house bench,
And the cabin-boy longed for a Devonshire lane,
And the gunner remembered a green-gowned wench,
And the fos'cle whisper went round again,--

"Sir Humphrey Gilbert is hard of hand,
But his courage went down with the ship, may-be,
And we wait for the Spring in a desert land,
For--_he is afraid of the Ocean-sea_."

_Ever the more, ever the more,
He heard the winds and the waves roar!
Thunder on thunder shook the shore._

He knew, he knew how the whisper went!
He knew he must master it, last or first!
He knew not how much or how little it meant;
But his heart was heavy and like to burst.

"Up with your sails, my sea-dogs all!
The wind has veered! And my ships," quoth he,
"They will serve for a British Admirall
Who is Knight-in-chief of the Ocean-sea!"

His will was like a North-east wind
That swept along our helmless crew;
But he would not stay on the _Golden Hynde_,
For that was the stronger ship of the two.

"My little ship's-company, lads, hath passed
Perils and storms a-many with me!
Would ye have me forsake them at the last?
They'll need a Knight of the Ocean-sea!"

_Ever the more, ever the more,
We heard the winds and the waves roar!
Thunder on thunder shook the shore._

Beyond Cape Race, the pale sun splashed
The grim grey waves with silver light
Where, ever in front, his frigate crashed
Eastward, for England and the night.

And still as the dark began to fall,
Ever in front of us, running free,
We saw the sails of our Admirall
Leading us home through the Ocean-sea.

_Ever the more, ever the more,
We heard the winds and the waves roar!
But he sailed on, sailed on before._

On Monday, at noon of the third fierce day
A-board our _Golden Hynde_ he came,
With a trail of blood, marking his way
On the salt wet decks as he walked half-lame.

For a rusty nail thro' his foot had pierced.
"Come, master-surgeon, mend it for me;
Though I would it were changed for the nails that amerced
The dying thief upon Calvary."

The surgeon bathed and bound his foot,
And the master entreated him sore to stay;
But roughly he pulled on his great sea-boot
With--"The wind is rising and I must away!"

I know not why so little a thing,
When into his pinnace we helped him down,
Should make our eyelids prick and sting
As the salt spray were into them blown,

But he called as he went--"Keep watch and steer
By my lanthorn at night!" Then he waved his hand
With a kinglier watch-word, "We are as near
To heaven, my lads, by sea as by land!"

_Ever the more, ever the more,
We heard the gathering tempest roar!
But he sailed on, sailed on before._

Three hundred leagues on our homeward road,
We strove to signal him, swooping nigh,
That he would ease his decks of their load
Of nettings and fights and artillery.

And dark and dark that night 'gan fall,
And high the muttering breakers swelled,
Till that strange fire which seamen call
"Castor and Pollux," we beheld,

An evil sign of peril and death,
Burning pale on the high main-mast;
But calm with the might of Gennesareth
Our Admirall's voice went ringing past,

Clear thro' the thunders, far and clear,
Mighty to counsel, clear to command,
Joyfully ringing, "We are as near
To heaven, my lads, by sea as by land!"

_Ever the more, ever the more,
We heard the rising hurricane roar!
But he sailed on, sailed on before._

And over us fled the fleet of the stars,
And, ever in front of us, far or nigh,
The lanthorn on his cross-tree spars
Dipped to the Pit or soared to the Sky!

'Twould sweep to the lights of Charles's Wain,
As the hills of the deep 'ud mount and flee.
Then swoop down vanishing cliffs again
To the thundering gulfs of the Ocean-sea.

We saw it shine as it swooped from the height,
With ruining breakers on every hand,
Then--a cry came out of the black mid-night,
_As near to heaven by sea as by land!_

And the light was out! Like a wind-blown spark;
All in a moment! And we--and we--
Prayed for his soul as we swept thro' the dark:
For he was a Knight of the Ocean-sea.

_Over our fleets for evermore
The winds 'ull triumph and the waves roar!
But he sails on, sails on before!_

Silence a moment held the Mermaid Inn,
Then Michael Drayton, raising a cup of wine,
Stood up and said,--"Since many have obtained
Absolute glory that have done great deeds,
But fortune is not in the power of man,
So they that, truly attempting, nobly fail,
Deserve great honour of the common-wealth.
Such glory did the Greeks and Romans give
To those that in great enterprises fell
Seeking the true commodity of their country
And profit to all mankind; for, though they failed,
Being by war, death, or some other chance,
Hindered, their images were set up in brass,
Marble and silver, gold and ivory,
In solemn temples and great palace-halls,
No less to make men emulate their virtues
Than to give honour to their just deserts.
God, from the time that He first made the world,
Hath kept the knowledge of His Ocean-sea
And the huge AEquinoctiall Continents
Reserved unto this day. Wherefore I think
No high exploit of Greece and Rome but seems
A little thing to these Discoveries
Which our adventurous captains even now
Are making, out there, Westward, in the night,
Captains most worthy of commendation,
Hugh Willoughby--God send him home again
Safe to the Mermaid!--and Dick Chauncellor,
That excellent pilot. Doubtless this man, too,
Sir Humphrey Gilbert, was worthy to be made
Knight of the Ocean-sea. I bid you all
Stand up, and drink to his immortal fame!"

II

A COINER OF ANGELS

Some three nights later, thro' the thick brown fog,
A link-boy, dropping flakes of crimson fire,
Flared to the door and, through its glowing frame,
Ben Jonson and Kit Marlowe, arm in arm,
Swaggered into the Mermaid Inn and called
For red-deer pies.
There, as they supped, I caught
Scraps of ambrosial talk concerning Will,
His _Venus and Adonis_.
"Gabriel thought
'Twas wrong to change the old writers and create
A cold Adonis."
--"Laws were made for Will,
Not Will for laws, since first he stole a buck
In Charlecote woods."
--"Where never a buck chewed fern,"
Laughed Kit, "unless it chewed the fern seed, too,
And walked invisible."
"Bring me some wine," called Ben,
And, with his knife thrumming upon the board,
He chanted, while his comrade munched and smiled.

I

Will Shakespeare's out like Robin Hood
With his merry men all in green,
To steal a deer in Charlecote wood
Where never a deer was seen.

II

He's hunted all a night of June,
He's followed a phantom horn,
He's killed a buck by the light of the moon,
Under a fairy thorn.

III

He's carried it home with his merry, merry band,
There never was haunch so fine;
For this buck was born in Elfin-land
And fed upon sops-in-wine.

IV

This buck had browsed on elfin boughs
Of rose-marie and bay,
And he's carried it home to the little white house
Of sweet Anne Hathaway.

V

"The dawn above your thatch is red!
Slip out of your bed, sweet Anne!
I have stolen a fairy buck," he said,
"The first since the world began.

VI

"Roast it on a golden spit,
And see that it do not burn;
For we never shall feather the like of it
Out of the fairy fern."

VII

She scarce had donned her long white gown
And given him kisses four,
When the surly Sheriff of Stratford-town
Knocked at the little green door.

VIII

They have gaoled sweet Will for a poacher;
But squarely he fronts the squire,
With "When did you hear in your woods of a deer?
Was it under a fairy briar?"

IX

Sir Thomas he puffs,--"If God thought good
My water-butt ran with wine,
Or He dropt me a buck in Charlecote wood,
I wot it is mine, not thine!"

X

"If you would eat of elfin meat,"
Says Will, "you must blow up your horn!
Take your bow, and feather the doe
That's under the fairy thorn!

XI

"If you would feast on elfin food,
You've only the way to learn!
Take your bow and feather the doe
That's under the fairy fern!"

XII

They're hunting high, they're hunting low,
They're all away, away,
With horse and hound to feather the doe
That's under the fairy spray!

XIII

Sir Thomas he raged! Sir Thomas he swore!
But all and all in vain;
For there never was deer in his woods before,
And there never would be again!

And, as I brought the wine--"This is my grace,"
Laughed Kit, "Diana grant the jolly buck
That Shakespeare stole were toothsome as this pie."

He suddenly sank his voice,--"Hist, who comes here?
Look--Richard Bame, the Puritan! O, Ben, Ben,
Your Mermaid Inn's the study for the stage,
Your only teacher of exits, entrances,
And all the shifting comedy. Be grave!
Bame is the godliest hypocrite on earth!
Remember I'm an atheist, black as coal.
He has called me Wormall in an anagram.
Help me to bait him; but be very grave.
We'll talk of Venus."
As he whispered thus,
A long white face with small black-beaded eyes
Peered at him through the doorway. All too well,
Afterwards, I recalled that scene, when Bame,
Out of revenge for this same night, I guessed,
Penned his foul tract on Marlowe's tragic fate;
And, twelve months later, I watched our Puritan
Riding to Tyburn in the hangman's cart
For thieving from an old bed-ridden dame
With whom he prayed, at supper-time, on Sundays.

Like a conspirator he sidled in,
Clasping a little pamphlet to his breast,
While, feigning not to see him, Ben began:--

"Will's _Venus and Adonis_, Kit, is rare,
A round, sound, full-blown piece of thorough work,
On a great canvas, coloured like one I saw
In Italy, by one--Titian! None of the toys
Of artistry your lank-haired losels turn,
Your Phyllida--Love-lies-bleeding--Kiss-me-Quicks,
Your fluttering Sighs and Mark-how-I-break-my-beats,
Begotten like this, whenever and how you list,
Your Moths of verse that shrivel in every taper;
But a sound piece of craftsmanship to last
Until the stars are out. 'Tis twice the length
Of Vergil's books--he's listening! Nay, don't look!--
Two hundred solid stanzas, think of that;
But each a square celestial brick of gold
Laid level and splendid. I've laid bricks and know
What thorough work is. If a storm should shake
The Tower of London down, Will's house would stand.
Look at his picture of the stallion,
Nostril to croup, that's thorough finished work!"