Oh, ay, He was more prosperous then. But now my cupboards Are full, and his are bare. Well, I'd think scorn To share a crust with outcast churls and thieves, Doffing his dignity, letting them call him Robin, or Robin Hood, as if an Earl Were just a plain man, which he will be soon, When we have served our writ of outlawry! 'Tis said he hopes much from the King's return And swears by Lion-Heart; and though King Richard Is brother to yourself, 'tis all the more Ungracious, sir, to hope he should return, And overset your rule. But then--to keep Such base communications! Myself would think it Unworthy of my sheriffship, much more Unworthy a right Earl. JOHN You talk too much! This whippet, here, slinks at his heel, you say. Mercy may close her eyes, then. Take him off, Blind him or what you will; and let him thank His master for it. But wait--perhaps he knows Where we may trap this young patrician thief. Where is your master? SERF Where you'll never find him. JOHN Oh, ho! the dog is faithful! Take him away. Get your red business done, I shall require Your men to ride with me. SHERIFF [_To his men._] Take him out yonder, A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour Do not offend my lord. Delay no time, The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light Enough to blind him by. SERF [_Crying out and struggling as he is forced back into the forest._] No, no, not that! God will repay you! Kill me out of hand! SHERIFF [_To PRINCE JOHN._] There is a kind of justice in all this. The irons being heated in that fire, my lord, Which was his hut, aforetime. [_Some of the men take the glowing irons from the fire and follow into the wood._] There's no need To parley with him, either. The snares are laid For Robin Hood. He goes this very night To his betrothal feast. JOHN Betrothal feast! SHERIFF At old Fitzwalter's castle, sir. JOHN Ha! ha! There will be one more guest there than he thought! Ourselves are riding thither. We intended My Lady Marian for a happier fate Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid To capture him? SHERIFF [_Consequentially._] It was our purpose, sir, To serve the writ of outlawry upon him And capture him as he came forth. JOHN That's well. Then--let him disappear--you understand? SHERIFF I have your warrant, sir? Death? A great Earl? JOHN