SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

Ah, gossips, if the Conqueror had but burned
Everything with four walls, hut, castle, palace,
And turned the whole wide world into a forest,
Drenched us with may, we might be happy then!
With sweet blue wood-smoke curling thro' the boughs,
And just a pigeon's flap to break the silence,
And ferns, of course, there's much to make men happy.
Well, well, the forest conquers at the last!
I saw a thistle in the castle courtyard,
A purple thistle breaking thro' the pavement,
Yesterday; and it's wonderful how soon
Some creepers pick these old grey walls to pieces.
These nunneries and these monasteries now,
They don't spring up like flowers, so I suppose
Old mother Nature wins the race at last.

FITZWALTER

Robin, my heart is with you, but I know
A hundred ages will not change this earth.

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

[_With a candle in his hand._]

Gossip, suppose the sun goes out like this.
Pouf!

[_Blows it out._]

Stranger things have happened.

FITZWALTER

Silence, fool!...
So, if you share your wealth with all the world
Earth will be none the better, and my poor girl
Will suffer for it. Where you got the gold
You have already lavished on the poor
Heaven knows.

FRIAR TUCK

Oh, by the mass and the sweet moon
Of Sherwood, so do I? That's none so hard
A riddle!

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

Ah, Friar Tuck, we know, we know!
Under the hawthorn bough, and at the foot
Of rainbows, that's where fairies hide their gold.
Cut me a silver penny out of the moon
Next time you're there.

[_Whispers._]

Now tell me, have you brought
Your quarter-staff?

FRIAR TUCK

[_Whispering._]

Hush! hush.

SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF

Oh, mum's the word!
I see it!

FITZWALTER

Believe me, Robin, there's one way
And only one--patience! When Lion-Heart
Comes home from the Crusade, he will not brook
This blot upon our chivalry. Prince John
Is dangerous to a heart like yours. Beware
Of rousing him. Meanwhile, your troth holds good;
But, till the King comes home from the Crusade
You must not claim your bride.