[There is a cry in the forest from the Serf, who immediately afterwards appears at the edge of the glade, shaking himself free from his guards. He seizes a weapon and rushes at Prince John. One of the retainers runs him through and he falls at the Prince's feet.]
JOHN
SHERIFF
[Stooping over the body.]
He is dead.
JOHN
I am sorry. It were better sport
To send him groping like a hoodman blind
Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come,
I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
Now for my Lady Marian!
[Exeunt all. A pause. The scene darkens. Shadowy figures creep out from the thickets, of old men, women and children.]
FIRST OLD MAN