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!
[They gather round Robin. The Outlaws come back with the captive Forester, his pack upon his back.]