[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