Act IV, Scene III. A clearing in a forest in Yorkshire.

It is dusk. Marian (disguised as a boy) and Sabina enter. Sabina is exhausted.

Marian pulls a small map out of her pocket.

MAR. This seems as good a place to rest as aught.

SAB. Thank Heaven! O, how riding wearies me!

Have we traversed the breadth of England, yet

Not found the woodsmen’s camp?

MAR. If aptly I

Decipher this ineptly-rendered map,

I think we’re near the place—or not: If not,

’Tis further on: I fear the sun sped home

While we were riding at so slow a rate.

SAB. Howso ’twas slow? I am all out of sorts

By flying at our hectic pace! Ay me,

We rode so swift!

MAR. So swift? Sabina, dear,

Thou wouldst be windblown, clamber’d[1] on a snail,

Whilst madly grasping at his slippery horns

To save your life! Why, never did we speed!

Indeed, despite thy welcome company,

I should have stood unswayed by thee, and come

Alone, to lightly skim the shallow time.

SAB. Were wings to sprout from thee, or from thy horse?

At all odds, I am thy companion, and

I mean to go—

MAR. [Suddenly] But soft you, soft you now:

There’s someone comes upon us, up ahead.

SAB. O worse and worse! Alas, what shall we do?

This man may be an outlaw!

MAR. That is true:

But mind you, it is outlaws that we seek.

SAB. ’Tis so: I had forgot.

MAR. I cannot see

If he is one of Robin’s company.

Hie thee hence and find a place to hide,

Whilst I determine if here’s friend or foe.

SAB. O, saints and angels, guard us!

Sabina runs off to hide while Marian remains, trying to adopt a

nonchalant, “manly” pose. Scarlock enters.

MAR. [In as deep a voice as she can muster] Greetings, woodland wanderer.

SCAR. What’s here, an orphan? Alone in the deep woods, far from your dam? Or art thou

native here, and fallen from a nest?

MAR. I am a peaceful passer through these woods, and nothing more.

SCAR. A young raven art thou, then, that fends for himself, and lives or dies as Providence provides.[2] What is your name, boy?

MAR. [Improvising] Marianus.

SCAR. Ha! A fine name for a dead Latin!

MAR. I bid you mock it not. I am named for a valiant son of Neptune.

SCAR. Say you so? Well, it hath the proper odor for such distinction.

MAR. Are you a footpad,[3] sirrah? Mean you to rob me?

[Scarlock draws his sword.]

SCAR. Ask my companion here an I be thief,[4] and he’ll say no. Sooth, he has little wit, yet for all, he’s very sharp.

MAR. I see your companion’s wit is steel, as yours is stale. Mark you, I have such a fatal friend as well, and see how he stands forth for me.

[She draws her rapier.]

SCAR. You speak a mighty oak for such an acorn. Pipe you brave music, though it be baseless;[5] and show you an excellent posture, if too heavy on the forward foot.

[As Marian glances down, Scarlock makes a sudden advance and

pass with his sword. Marian leaps back with a squeal. Now she

grasps her weapon with both hands, and it trembles in her grip.]

How now, mighty oak? Bearest thou an aspen’s leaf, that trembles at a breeze?[6]

MAR. Come sir, what do you want of me?

SCAR. ’Tis well you ask, for proper courtesy shall serve you here. Know you not that peregrines[7] within this wood must pay their passage through to Robin Hood?

MAR. Thou art never Robin Hood, for know you, I am his friend.

SCAR. Understand me, pup. I know I am not he. In Barnsdale Wood ’tis a mouthful to say “I am Robin’s man”—as I may say, and thou mayst not.

MAR. And I may say I know his friends, and thou art none.

SCAR. And I may say I weary of this interplay. Have at you!

[He raises his sword to strike a blow.]

SAB. [Offstage] O Dearest Heaven, save us!

[Scarlock checks himself at the sound of Sabina’s cry.]

SCAR. What’s this? A woman’s voice?

Sabina dashes on and, in spite of her terror, bravely

interposes herself between Marian and Scarlock’s sword.

SAB. This cannot, must not, shall not be! My tender heart may offer scant resistance to thy obdurate sword, yet it must pass this way if you would slay my friend!

SCAR. Never, never, lady! I am disarm’d!

MAR. Here’s further proof you are not Robin’s man, for he and his are sworn to spare those who company maidens!

SCAR. I saw but thee, a cock-sure cockerel![8] Had I but known thy precious counterpart, I ne’er would been profane to thee and waved a weapon so! I swear I am Robin’s man, and even came on thee while seeking him.

SAB. So came you, sir, on those who seek his men. Canst lead us to their camp?

SCAR. ’Twould be mine honor, fair maid.

MAR. Again I say, I know thee not, and so disdain to trust in thee.

SCAR. Why, bear my sword then, as you please, and hold it at my back.

[He thrusts his heavy broadsword into Marian’s hand,

then turns to speak gently to Sabina, offering her his arm.]

I will not have you fear me. Nearby there is a kindly shepherd’s cottage, where I may claim a cordial offer of stable, food, and rest. At sunrise, we may set out for the camp. Wilt permit me to escort thee, most brave and beauteous maid?

SAB. Why, sir—why, yes, you may.

[Sabina willingly takes his arm.]

SCAR. Then let’s proceed. It is not far to go. [Sternly, to Marian] Come along, boy, you bring up the rear.

[Scarlock and Sabina stroll off, their eyes fixed on each other.

An exasperated Marian follows, lugging both swords.]

Back to synopsis

[2] According to legend—and alluded to in the book of Psalms—ravens are abandoned at birth, and thereafter are fed and sustained by a miraculous “dew of heaven.”

[4] “Ask my companion whether I be a thief” is an old saying. Here, Scarlock’s “companion” is his sword.

[5] a play on having no basis in fact and having no bass (since Marian’s voice is high-pitched)

[6] The leaves of the aspen tree will flutter in the slightest breeze.