Abbot, I chance to know how this was wrought, This miracle; wrought with the blood, anguish and sweat Of toiling peasants, while the cobwebs clustered Around your lordly cellars of red wine. Give him his five and let him go. ABBOT [_Going out._] The King Shall hear of this! The King will hunt you down! ROBIN And now--the next! SCARLET Beseech you, sir, to rest, Your wound will-- ROBIN No! The next, show me the next! SCARLET This Norman baron-- ROBIN What, another friend! Another master of broad territories. How many homes were burned to make you lord Of half a shire? What hath he in his purse? SCARLET Gold and to spare! BARON To keep up mine estate I need much more. ROBIN [_Pointing to the poor._] Ay, you need these! these! these! BARON [_Protesting._] I am not rich. ROBIN Look in his purse and see. BARON You dogs, the King shall hear of it! ROBIN [_Murmuring as if to himself._] Five loaves! And yet, of what remained, they gathered up Twelve basketsful. The bread of human kindness Goes far! Oh, I begin to see new meanings In that old miracle! How much? How much? SCARLET Five hundred marks in gold! ROBIN [_Half rising and speaking with a sudden passion._] His churls are starving, Starving! Their little children cry for bread! One of those jewels on his baldric there Would feed them all in plenty all their lives! Five loaves--and yet--and yet--of what remained, The fragments, mark you, twelve great basketsful! BARON I am in a madman's power! The man is mad! ROBIN Take all he has, all you can get. To-night, When all is dark (we must have darkness, mind, For deeds like this) blind creatures will creep out With groping hands and gaping mouths, lean arms, And shrivelled bodies, branded, fettered, lame, Distorted, horrible; and they will weep Great tears like gouts of blood upon our feet, And we shall succour them and make them think (That's if you have not mangled their poor souls As well, or burned their children with their homes), We'll try to make them think that some few roods Of earth are not so bitter as hell might be. Are you not glad to think of this? Nay--go-- Or else your face will haunt me when I die! Take him quickly away. The next! The next! O God! [_Flings up his arms and falls fainting._] MARIAN [_Bending over him._] O Robin! Robin! Help him quickly. The wound! The wound!