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.
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