it lasts, and as far as it reaches. And now if any of you
know any just impediment----"

"Fire and fury," said the baron.

"Fire and fury," said the friar, "are modes of that might which
constitutes right, and are just impediments to any thing against which
they can be brought to bear. They are our good allies upon occasion, and
would declare for us now if you should put them to the test."

"Father," said Matilda, "you know the terms of our compact: from the
moment you restrained my liberty, you renounced your claim to all but
compulsory obedience. The friar argues well. Right ends with might.
Thick walls, dreary galleries, and tapestried chambers, were indifferent
to me while I could leave them at pleasure, but have ever been hateful
to me since they held me by force. May I never again have roof but
the blue sky, nor canopy but the green leaves, nor barrier but the
forest-bounds; with the foresters to my train, Little John to my page,
Friar Tuck to my ghostly adviser, and Robin Hood to my liege lord. I am
no longer lady Matilda Fitzwater, of Arlingford Castle, but plain Maid
Marian, of Sherwood Forest."

"Long live Maid Marian!" re-echoed the foresters.

"Oh false girl!" said the baron, "do you renounce your name and
parentage?"

"Not my parentage," said Marian, "but my name indeed: do not all maids
renounce it at the altar?"

"The altar!" said the baron: "grant me patience! what do you mean by the
altar?"

"Pile green turf," said the friar, "wreathe it with flowers, and crown
it with fruit, and we will show the noble baron what we mean by the
altar."

The foresters did as the friar directed.

"Now, Little John," said the friar, "on with the cloak of the abbot of
Doubleflask. I appoint thee my clerk: thou art here duly elected in full
mote."

"I wish you were all in full moat together," said the baron, "and smooth
wall on both sides."

"Punnest thou?" said the friar. "A heinous anti-christian offence.
Why anti-christian? Because anti-catholic? Why anti-catholic? Because
anti-roman. Why anti-roman? Because Carthaginian. Is not pun from
Punic? punica fides: the very quint-essential quiddity of bad faith:
double-visaged: double-tongued. He that will make a pun will---- I say
no more. Fie on it. Stand forth, clerk. Who is the bride's father?"

"There is no bride's father," said the baron. "I am the father of
Matilda Fitzwater."

"There is none such," said the friar. "This is the fair Maid Marian.
Will y