Volume II Part 68 (1/2)

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 ancient 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 cl.u.s.tered 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 s.h.i.+re? What hath he in his purse?

SCARLET