tter 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