Chapter 13

_Enter_ MARIAN, _with a white apron_.

MAR. What, Much! What, Jenny! Much, I say!

MUCH. What's the matter, mistress?

MAR. I pray thee, see the fueller Suffer the cook to want no wood. Good Lord, where is this idle girl? Why, Jenny!

JENNY (_within_). I come, forsooth.

MAR. I pray thee, bring the flowers forth.

MUCH. I'll go send her, mistress, and help the cooks, if they have any need.

MAR. Despatch, good Much. What, Jen, I say!

_Enter_ JENNY.

MUCH. Hie ye, hie ye! she calls for life. [_Exit_ MUCH.

MAR. Indeed, indeed, you do me wrong, To let me cry, and call so long.

JEN. Forsooth, I straw'd[278] the dining bowers, And smooth'd the walks with herbs and flowers. The yeomen's tables I have spread, Dress'd salts, laid trenchers, set on bread. Nay, all is well, I warrant you.

MAR. You are not well, I promise you, Your 'foresleeves are not pinn'd; fie, fie! And all your head-gear stands awry. Give me the flowers. Go in, for shame, And quickly see you mend the same.

[_Exit_ JENNY.

_Enter_ SIR DONCASTER, PRIOR. MARIAN _strewing flowers_.

DON. How busy Mistress Marian is! She thinks this is her day of bliss.

PRIOR. But it shall be the wofull'st day That ever chanc'd her, if I may.

MAR. Why are you two thus in the air? Your wounds are green. Good coz, have care.

PRIOR. Thanks for your kindness, gentle maid: My cousin Robert us hath prayed To help him in his business.

_Enter_ FRIAR.

FRIAR. Sir Doncaster, Sir Doncaster!

DON. Holla!

FRIAR. I pray you, did you see the Prior?

PRIOR. Why, here I am. What wouldst thou. Friar?

FRIAR. The king is heated in the chase, And posteth hitherward apace. He told my master he was dry, And he desires ye presently To send the drink whereof ye spake.

PRIOR. Come, it is here: haste let us make.

[_Exeunt_ DONCASTER, PRIOR, _and_ FRIAR.

_Horns blow.

Enter_ KING, QUEEN, JOHN, SCARLET, SCATHLOCK, ELY, FITZWATER, SALISBURY, CHESTER.

MARIAN _kneels down_.

MAR. Most gracious sovereign, welcome once again: Welcome to you and all your princely train.

KING. Thanks, lovely hostess; we are homely guests. Where's Robin Hood? he promis'd me some drink.

MAR. Your handmaid, Robin, will not then be long: The Friar, indeed, came running to his uncle, Who, with Sir Doncaster, were here with me, And all together went for such a drink.

KING. Well, in a better time it could not come, For I am very hot and passing dry.

_Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, _with a cup, a towel, leading_ DONCASTER: TUCK _and_ MUCH _pulling the_ PRIOR.

ROB. H. Traitor! I'll draw thee out before the king.

FRIAR. Come, murderous Prior.

MUCH. Come, ye dog's face.

KING. Why, how now, Robin? Where's the drink you bring?

ROB. H. Lay hold on these! Far be it I should bring your majesty The drink these two prepared for your taste.

KING. Why, Robin Hood? be brief and answer me. I am amazed at thy troubled looks.

ROB. H. Long will not my ill-looks amaze your grace; I shortly look never to look again.

MAR. Never to look! What, will it still be night? If thou look never, day can never be. What ails my Robin? Wherefore dost thou faint?

ROB. H. Because I cannot stand: yet now I can. [KING _and_ MARIAN _support him_. Thanks to my king, and thanks to Marian.

KING. Robin, be brief, and tell us what hath chanc'd.

ROB. H. I must be brief, for I am sure of death, Before a long tale can be half-way told.

FITZ. Of death, my son! bright sun of all my joy! Death cannot have the power of[279] virtuous life.

ROB. H. Not o'er[280] the virtues, but the life it can.

KING. What, dost thou speak of death? how shouldst thou die?

ROB. H. By poison and the Prior's treachery.

QUEEN. Why, take this sovereign powder at my hands: Take it, and live in spite of poison's power.

DON. Ay, set him forward. Powders, quoth ye? hah! I am a fool, then, if a little dust, The shaving of a horn, a Bezoar stone,[281] Or any antidote have power to stay The execution of my heart's resolve. Tut, tut! you labour, lovely queen, in vain, And on a thankless groom your toil bestow. Now hath your foe reveng'd you of your foe: Robin shall die, if all the world said no.[282]

MAR. How the wolf howls! Fly, like a tender kid, Into thy shepherd's bosom. Shield me, love! Canst thou not, Robin? Where shall I be hid? O God! these ravens will seize upon thy dove.

ROB. H. They cannot hurt thee; pray thee, do not fear: Base curs will couch, the lion being near.

QUEEN. How works my powder?

ROB. H. Very well, fair queen.

KING. Dost thou feel any ease?

ROB. H. I shall, I trust, anon: Sleep falls upon mine eyes. O, I must sleep, And they that love me, do not waken me.

MAR. Sleep in my lap, and I will sing to thee.

JOHN. He should not sleep.

ROB. H. I must, for I must die; While I live, therefore, let me have some rest.

FITZ. Ay, let him rest: the poison urges sleep. When he awakes, there is no hope of life.

DON. Of life! Now, by the little time I have to live, He cannot live one hour for your lives.

KING. Villain! what art thou?

DON. Why, I am a knight.

CHES. Thou wert indeed. If it so please your grace, I will describe my knowledge of this wretch.

KING. Do, Chester.

CHES. This Doncaster, for so the felon hight, Was by the king, your father, made a knight, And well in arms he did himself behave. Many a bitter storm the wind of rage Blasted this realm within those woful days, When the unnatural fights continued Between your kingly father and his sons. This cutthroat, knighted in that time of woe, Seized on a beauteous nun at Berkhamstead, As we were marching toward Winchester, After proud Lincoln was compell'd to yield. He took this virgin straying in the field-- For all the nuns and every covent[283] fled The dangers that attended on our troops: For those sad times too oft did testify, War's rage hath no regard to piety-- She humbly pray'd him, for the love of heaven, To guide her to her father's, two miles thence: He swore he would, and very well he might, For to the camp he was a forager. Upon the way they came into a wood, Wherein, in brief, he stripp'd this tender maid: Whose lust, when she in vain had long withstood, Being by strength and torments overlaid, He did a sacrilegious deed of rape, And left her bathed in her own tears and blood. When she reviv'd, she to her father's got, And got her father to make just complaint Unto your mother, being then in camp.

QUEEN. Is this the villain, Chester, that defil'd Sir Eustace Stutville's chaste and beauteous child?

DON. Ay, madam, this is he That made a wench dance naked in a wood; And, for she did deny what I desired, I scourg'd her for her pride, till her fair skin With stripes was checquer'd like a vintner's grate.[284] And what was this? A mighty matter, sure! I have a thousand more than she defil'd, And cut the squeaking throats of some of them-- I grieve I did not hers.

QUEEN. Punish him, Richard. A fairer virgin never saw the sun; A chaster maid was never sworn a nun.

KING. How 'scaped the villain punishment that time?

FITZ. I rent his spurs off, and disgraded him.

CHES. And then he rail'd upon the Queen and me. Being committed, he his keeper slew, And to your father fled, who pardon'd him.

RICH. God give his soul a pardon for that sin.

SAL. O, had I heard his name or seen his face, I had defended Robin from this chance! Ah, villain! shut those gloomy lights of thine. Remember'st thou a little son of mine, Whose nurse at Wilton first thou ravishedst, And slew'st two maids that did attend on them?

DON. I grant I dash'd the brains out of a brat-- Thine if he were, I care not: had he been The first-born comfort of a royal king, And should have yall'd, when Doncaster cried peace, I would have done by him as then I did.

KING. Soon shall the world be rid of such a wretch. Let him be hang'd alive in the highway That joineth to the tower.[285]

DON. Alive or dead (I reck not how I die), You, them, and these I desperately defy.

ELY. Repent, or never look to be absolv'd; But die accurs'd, as thou deservest well.

DON. Then give me my desert: curse, one by one!

ELY. First I accurse thee; and if thou persist, Unto damnation leave thee, wretched man.

DON. What do I care for your damnation? Am I not doomed to death? what more damnation Can there ensue your loud and yelling cries?

PRIOR. Yes, devil! hear thy fellow-spirit speak-- Who would repent; O, fain he would repent!-- After this body's bitter punishment, There is an ever-during endless woe, A quenchless fire, an unconsuming pain, Which desperate souls and bodies must endure.

DON. Can you preach this, yet set me on, Sir Prior, To run into this endless, quenchless fire?

PRIOR. High heavens, show mercy to my many ills! Never had this been done, but like a fiend Thou temptedst me with ceaseless devilish thoughts. Therefore I curse with bitterness of soul The hour wherein I saw thy baleful eyes. My eyes I curse for looking on those eyes! My ears I curse for hearkening to thy tongue! I curse thy tongue for tempting of mine ears! Each part I curse, that we call thine or mine; Thine for enticing mine, mine following thine!

DON. A holy prayer. What collect have we next?

[_This time_ ROBIN _stirs_.

FITZ. My Marian wanteth words, such is her woe; But old Fitzwater, for his girl and him, Begs nothing but world's plague for such a foe, Which causeless harm'd a virtuous nobleman, A pitier of his griefs, when he felt grief. Therefore, bethink thee of thy hateful deed, Thou faithless Prior, and thou this ruthless thief.

PRIOR. Will no man curse me, giving so much cause? Then, Doncaster, ourselves ourselves accurse, And let no good betide to thee or me!

[_All the Yeomen_, FRIAR, MUCH, JENNY _cry_.

ALL. Amen, amen! accursed may he be For murdering Robin, flower of courtesy.

[ROBIN _sits up_.

ROB. H. O, ring not such a peal for Robin's death! Let sweet forgiveness be my passing bell. Art thou there, Marian? then fly forth, my breath: To die within thy arms contents me well.

PRIOR. Keep in, keep in a little while thy soul, Till I have pour'd my soul forth at thy feet.

ROB. H. I slept not, uncle; I your grief did hear, Let him forgive thy soul that bought it dear: Your body's deed I in my death forgive, And humbly beg the king that you may live. Stand to your clergy, uncle;[286] save your life, And lead a better life than you have done.

PRIOR. O, gentle nephew! O, my brother's son, Thou dying glory of old Huntington! Wishest thou life to such a murderous foe? I will not live, since thou must life forego. O, happy Warman! blessed in thy end; Now too-too late thy truth I do commend. O, nephew, nephew! Doncaster and I Murder'd poor Warman, for he did deny To join with us in this black tragedy.

ROB. H. Alas, poor Warman! Friar, Little John, I told ye both where Warman's body lay, And of his burial I'll dispose anon.

KING. Is there no law, Lord Ely, to convict This Prior, that confesses murders thus?

ELY. He is a hallow'd man, and must be tried And punish'd by the censure of the church.

PRIOR. The church therein doth err: God doth allow No canon to preserve a murderer's life. Richard! King Richard! in thy grandsire's days A law was made, the clergy sworn thereto, That whatsoever churchman did commit Treason or murder, or false felony, Should like a secular be punished. Treason we did, for sure we did intend King Richard's poisoning, sovereign of this land. Murder we did, in working Warman's end And my dear nephew's by this fatal hand: And theft we did, for we have robb'd the king, The state, the nobles, commons, and his men, Of a true peer, firm pillar, liberal lord. Fitzwater we have robbed of a kind son, And Marian's love-joys we have quite undone.

DON. Whoop! what a coil is here with your confession!

PRIOR. I ask but judgment for my foul transgression.

KING. Thy own mouth hath condemn'd thee. Hence with him! Hang this man dead, then see him buried; But let the other hang alive in chains.

DON. I thank you, sir.

[_Exeunt Yeomen_, FRIAR, _Prisoners_, MUCH.

JOHN. Myself will go, my lord, And see sharp justice done upon these slaves.

ROB. H. O, go not hence, Prince John! a word or two, Before I die, I fain would say to you.

KING. Robin, we see what we are sad to see-- Death, like a champion, treading down thy life: Yet in thy end, somewhat to comfort thee, We freely give to thy betrothed wife, Beauteous and chaste Matilda, all those lands, Fallen by thy folly to the Prior's hands, And by his fault now forfeited to me. Earl Huntington, she shall thy countess be: And thy wight yeomen, they shall wend with me Against the faithless enemies of Christ.

ROB. H. Bring forth a bier, and cover it with green; That on my deathbed I may here sit down. [_A bier is brought in. He sits_. At Robin's burial let no black be seen, Let no hand give for him a mourning gown; For in his death his king hath given him life By this large gift, given to his maiden wife. Chaste maid Matilda, countess of account, Chase with thy bright eyes all these clouds of woe From these fair cheeks; I pray thee, sweet, do so: Think it is bootless folly to complain For that which never can be had again. Queen Elinor, you once were Matilda's foe; Prince John, you long sought her unlawful love: Let dying Robin Hood entreat you both To change those passions: madam, turn your hate To princely love: Prince John, convert your love To virtuous passion, chaste and moderate. O, that your gracious right hands would enfold Matilda's right hand, prison'd in my palm, And swear to do what Robin Hood desires!

QUEEN. I swear I will: I will a mother be To fair Matilda's life and chastity.

JOHN. When John solicits chaste Matilda's ears With lawless suits, as he hath often done, Or offers to the altars of her eyes Lascivious poems, stuff'd with vanities, He craves to see but short and sour days: His death be like to Robin's he desires; His perjured body prove a poison'd prey For cowled monks and barefoot begging friars.

ROB. H. Enough, enough! Fitzwater, take your child. My dying frost, which no sun's heat can thaw, Closes the powers of all my outward parts: My freezing blood runs back unto my heart, Where it assists death, which it would resist: Only my love a little hinders death, For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite: Then go not yet, Matilda, stay awhile. Friar, make speed, and list my latest will.

MAT. O, let me look for ever in thy eyes, And lay my warm breath to thy bloodless lips, If my sight can restrain death's tyrannies, Or keep life's breath within thy bosom lock'd.

ROB. H. Away, away! Forbear, my love; all this is but delay.

FITZ. Come, maiden daughter, from my maiden son, And give him leave to do what must be done.

ROB. H. First, I bequeath my soul to all souls Sav'our, And will my body to be buried At Wakefield, underneath the abbey wall; And in this order make my funeral. When I am dead, stretch me upon this bier! My beads and primer shall my pillow be; On this side be my bow, my good shafts here; Upon my breast the cross, and underneath My trusty sword, thus fasten'd in the sheath. Let Warman's body at my feet be laid, Poor Warman, that in my defence did die. For holy dirges sing me woodmen's songs, As ye to Wakefield walk with voices shrill. This for myself. My goods and plate I give Among my yeomen: them I do bestow Upon my sovereign Richard. This is all. My liege, farewell! my love, farewell, farewell! Farewell, fair Queen, Prince John, and noble lords! Father Fitzwater, heartily adieu! Adieu, my yeomen tall. Matilda, close mine eyes. Friar, farewell! farewell to all!

MAT. O, must my hands with envious death conspire To shut the morning gates of my life's light!

FITZ. It is a duty and thy love's desire! I'll help thee, girl, to close up Robin's sight.[287]

KING. Laments are bootless, tears cannot restore Lost life, Matilda; therefore weep no more: And since our mirth is turned into moan, Our merry sport to tragic funeral, We will prepare our power for Austria, After Earl Robert's timeless burial. Fall to your wood-songs, therefore, yeomen bold. And deck his hearse with flowers, that loved you dear: Dispose his goods as he hath them dispos'd. Fitzwater and Matilda, bide you here. See you the body unto Wakefield borne: A little we will bear ye company, But all of us at London 'point to meet: Thither, Fitzwater, bring Earl Robin's men; And, Friar, see you come along with them.

FRIAR. Ah, my liege lord! the Friar faints, And hath no words to make complaints: But since he must forsake this place, He will await, and thanks your grace.

_Song.

Weep, weep, ye woodmen, wail, Your hands with sorrow wring; Your master Robin Hood lies dead, Therefore sigh as you sing.

Here lie his primer and his beads, His bent bow and his arrows keen, His good sword and his holy cross: Now cast on flowers fresh and green;

And as they fall, shed tears and say, Wella, wella-day! wella, wella-day: Thus cast ye flowers and sing, And on to Wakefield take your way_.

[_Exeunt_.

FRIAR. Here doth the Friar leave with grievance; Robin is dead, that graced his entrance, And being dead, he craves his audience With this short play they would have patience.[288]

_Enter_ CHESTER.

CHES. Nay, Friar, at the request of thy kind friend, Let not thy play too soon be at an end. Though Robin Hood be dead, his yeomen gone, And that thou think'st there now remains not one To act another scene or two for thee, Yet know full well, to please this company, We mean to end Matilda's tragedy.

FRIAR. Off then, I wish you, with your Kendal green; Let not sad grief in fresh array be seen. Matilda's story is replete with tears, Wrongs, desolations, ruins, deadly fears. In, and attire ye. Though I tired be, Yet will I tell my mistress' tragedy. Apollo's masterdom[289] I invocate, To whom henceforth my deeds I dedicate; That of his godhead, 'bove all gods divine, With his rich spirit he would lighten mine: That I may sing true lays of trothless deeds, Which to conceive my heart through sorrow bleeds, Cheer thee, sad soul, and in a lofty line Thunder out wrong, compass'd in cloudy tears:

[_Enter in black_.[290]

Show to the eyes, fill the beholders' ears, With all the lively acts of lustful rage, Restrain'd by modest tears and chastity's intreats: And let King John, that ill-part[291] personage, By suits, devices, practices, and threats, And when he sees all serveth to no end, Of chaste Matilda let him make an end.

CHO. We are all fitted, Friar: shall we begin?

FRIAR. Well art thou suited: would my order would Permit me habit equal to my heart!

CHO. If you remember, John did take an oath Never again to seek Matilda's love.

FRIAR. O, what is he, that's sworn affection's slave, That will not violate all laws, all oaths? And, being mighty, what will he omit To compass his intents, though ne'er so ill?-- You must suppose King Richard now is dead, And John, resistless, is fair England's lord Who, striving to forget Matilda's love, Takes to his wife the beauteous Isabel, Betroth'd to Hugh le Brun, Earl of North-March:[292] And picking quarrels under show of kin, Wholly divorces his first queen away. But yet Matilda still-still troubles him, And being in the court, so oft he courts her, That by her noble father, old Fitzwater, She is remov'd from his lust-tempting eye. But tides restrain'd o'erswell their bounds with rage: Her absence adds more fuel to his fire. In sleep he sees her, and his waking thoughts Study by day to compass his desire.

CHO. Friar, since now you speak of visions, It was received by tradition From those that were right near unto King John, Of three strange visions that to him appear'd; And, as I guess, I told you what they were.

FRIAR. With them I will begin. Draw but that veil, And there King John sits sleeping in his chair.

[_Draw the curtain: the king sits sleeping, his sword by his side. Enter Austria, before whom cometh Ambition, and bringing him before the chair, King John in sleep maketh signs to avoid, and holdeth his own crown fast with both his hands_.

FRIAR. Ambition, that had ever waited on King John, Now brings him Austria, easy to be ta'en, Being wholly tam'd by Richard's warlike hand. And bids him add that dukedom to his crown: But he puts by Ambition, and contemns All other kingdoms but the English crown, Which he holds fast, as if he would not loose[293].

[_Enter Constance, leading Young Arthur: both offer to take the crown; but with his foot he overturneth them: to them cometh Insurrection, led by the F.K. and L.[294] menacing him, and leads the child again to the chair; but he only layeth hand on his sword, and with his foot overthroweth the child, whom they take up as dead; and, Insurrection flying, they mournfully bear in the body_.

FRIAR. The lady and the child that did ascend, Striving in vain to take the crown from John, Were Constance and her son the Duke of Britain, Heir to the elder brother of the king: Yet he sleeps on, and with a little spurn The mother and the prince doth overturn. Again, when Insurrection them assists, Stirr'd by the French king and the wronged earl, Whose troth-plight wife King John had ta'en to wife, He only claps his hand upon his sword, Mocketh their threatenings, and in their attempts The harmless prince receives recureless death, Whom they too late with bootless tears lament.

[_Enter Queen with two Children, borne after her: she ascends, and seeing no motion, she fetcheth her children one by one; but seeing yet no motion, she descendeth, wringing her hands, and departeth. Enter Matilda in a mourning veil, reading on a book, at whose coming he starteth, and sitteth upright; as she passeth by, he smiles, and folds his arms as if he did embrace her: being gone, he starts suddenly, and speaks_.

KING. Matilda! stay, Matilda, do but speak! Who's there? Entreat Matilda to come back.

_Enter_ BONVILLE[295].

BON. Who would you have, my lord?

KING. Why, my Lord Bonville, I would have Matilda, That but even now pass'd by toward the door.

BON. I saw her not, my lord.

KING. Hadst thou a lover's eye, A gnat, a mote, a shadow thou wouldst spy. Come, follow me; she cannot be so far, But I shall overtake her: come away! [_Exeunt_.

FRIAR. The last appearance shadow'd the fair queen And her two children, at whose sight King John Shewed neither sign nor show of passion: But when the sun came masked in a cloud, And veiled beauty, join'd with chastity, Appeared in Matilda's lovely shape, He starts, he clasps, he wakes, he calls, he seeks The shadow of that substance he affects. To her he sues, but she his suit rejects; To him she sues, but he her suit neglects: He sues to be her love; she doth despise: She sues to live a maid, which he denies. What follows of this wilfull will and shall, This no and nay, this quenchless, bootless fire, This cold affection and this hot desire, The act itself shall tell; and the poor friar Your partial favours humbly doth require. [_Exit_.