Excerpt from
Act III, Scene VI. The South Lawn.
Shouts
and cheers are heard offstage.
Falconberg and his deputy Greve hurry
across the stage.
FALC. Come, stand aside in readiness. The winner’s been declared.
[They exit.]
On
the opposite side of the stage, Marian, Sabina and Gravend enter. Gravend carries a golden arrow on a velvet cushion,
which
he hands to Marian.
GRAV. Here, Lady Marian, is the prize you are
to bestow upon the victim.
MAR. Thank
you, sir. Mean you, sir, the victor?
GRAV. Aye,
madam, so I said.
Robin, still disguised as a
cobbler, enters among a crowd of
cheering Citizens
and
Archers, including Culp the Carter and John-le-Parkyson.
CITIZEN. Make
way for Master Cobbler!
PARK. Now,
Master Archer too!
CULP. Aye, well, cobblers must know their arches. [To Robin] You shoot prodigious well, I
confess it.
MAR. Say
then, ye judges, witnesses, and all
Who
undertook this challenge here today,
Has
this contestant triumph’d over all
By
means both fair and true, and earn’d his prize?
ALL. [Ad lib] Aye, my lady, he has!
CULP. By
the Mass, fair and true.
MAR. In honor
then, young Master, of thy skill,
At
this, our hallow’d Art of archery,
This
treasur’d token I on thee bestow,
The
Golden Arrow of fair Albion.[1]
[Robin steps forward and takes the arrow from the velvet cushion.]
ROB. [In a public voice] I thank thee, my
lady! [Whispers] But thou art the
fairer treasure, and thy look is my reward.
MAR. [In a public voice] Cherish this, and all
the honor that bides with it! [Whispers]
Thou art mad to come here, yet I joy to see thee.
PARK. All
hail the champion!
Everyone
applauds and cheers. Falconberg enters
and
steps forward, applauding with the others.
Greve and Gravend also mingle with
the crowd.
FALC. By
Heaven! May England’s soldiers bear their arms so well as her cobblers do! Pray
tell us, young Master, how came you to shoot so fair?
ROB. [In a rustic dialect] Faith, my lord, I
know not.
FALC. But,
surely, you were schooled in some fashion, or were you Cupid-like in the crib,
born with bow and arrow in your fists?
[The
crowd laughs.]
ROB. Indeed,
la, so my old dad would tell it, I plucked a bowstring ’fore a’was weaned. Then
too, as a younker,[2]
I were my uncle’s crowkeeper,[3]
and felled many a black beggar robbing his grain.
FALC. How
multifarious the rogue is! Cobbler, Archer, Scarecrow—all these and a Liar
besides.
ROB. No
man calls me liar but a fool.
FALC. I
call thee liar.
ROB. Then
thou art a fool.
FALC. And
thou art Robin Hood; and a greater fool there never was.
[Everyone
gasps as Falconberg draws his sword.]
PARK. This
is Robin Hood?
CULP. By my
halidom,[4]
’tis no wonder he outshot me!
ROB. You
mistake me, Master Sheriff. I am but a cobbler poor. Here, I’ll clout thy
buskins, gratis.[5]
FALC. I
ken thy visage, miscreant![6]
Thou art the man.
ROB. [To the crowd] Nay, hear me, citizens!
How can your sheriff know the face of this notorious thief? [To individuals in the crowd] Know you
his face, sir? Nay, or you? Who knows the footpad’s[7]
face, but he that’s seen it from a sword-point? [To Falconberg, with exaggerated
alarm] Had you that purview,
Master Sheriff, and did not apprehend him?
FALC. [Flustered] Nay, I—nay, it is not so!
ROB. And here am I possessed of this rich
keepsake! Bless me, I’ll not tarry in a town so ill-protected.
[Robin starts to walk off, but his path is barred by
Greve and Gravend, both with drawn
swords.]
FALC. I
arrest thee in the king’s name!
ROB. A
name thou durst not speak for fear it scorch thy tongue!
FALC. Seize
him!
[Robin grabs a pike from a bystander and strikes Falconberg down.
Then
he deftly parries both deputies’ swords and trips them up as
he
discards the pike and dashes off. The crowd cheers.]
FALC. After
him, you stumbling oafs!
[Greve and Gravend untangle
themselves,
leap to
their feet and exit in pursuit.]