ient miracle!--five loaves, two small fishes;
And then--of what remained--they gathered up
Twelve basketsful!

ABBOT

Oh, you blaspheming villains!

ROBIN

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 bodie