Judas answered first,
With "Master, is it I?" Hang not thy head!
What say'st thou to this charge?

THE FORESTER

Why, Friar Tuck
Can answer for me. Do you think he cares
Less for a woman's lips than I?

FRIAR TUCK

Cares less,
Thou rotten radish? Nay, but a vast deal more!
God's three best gifts to man,--woman and song
And wine, what dost _thou_ know of all their joy?
Thou lean pick-purse of kisses?

ROBIN

Take him out,
Friar, and let him pack his goods and go,
Whither he will. I trust the knave to thee
And thy good quarter-staff, for some five minutes
Before he says "Farewell."

FRIAR

Bring him along,
Give him a quarter-staff, I'll thrash him roundly.

[_He goes out. Two of the FORESTERS follow with the prisoner.
Others bring the ABBOT before ROBIN._]

ROBIN

Ah! Ha! I know him, the godly usurer
Of York!

LITTLE JOHN

We saw a woman beg for alms,
One of the sufferers by the rule which gave
This portly Norman his fat priory
And his abundant lands. We heard him say
That he was helpless, had not one poor coin
To give her, not a scrap of bread! He wears
Purple beneath his cloak: his fine sleek palfrey
Flaunted an Emperor's trappings!

ABBOT

Man, the Church
Must keep her dignity!

ROBIN

[_Pointing to the poor woman, etc._]

Ay, look at it!
There is your dignity! And you must wear
Silk next your skin to show it. But there was one
You call your Master, and He had not where
To lay His head, save one of these same trees!

ABBOT

Do you blaspheme! I pray you, let me go!
There are grave matters waiting. I am poor!

ROBIN

Look in his purse and see.

ABBOT

[_Hurriedly._]

I have five marks
In all the world, no more. I'll give them to you!

ROBIN

Look in his purse and see.

[_They pour a heap of gold out of his purse._]

ROBIN

Five marks, Indeed!
Here's, at the least, a hundred marks in gold!

ABBOT

That is my fees, my fees; you must not take them!

ROBIN

The anc