Abbot— I know you do.
Father Benedict—And sheep have wool?
Abbot— Yes.
Father Benedict— Now we go afield.
Do briers grow in pastures? (The Abbot nods.)
And have flukes?
Abbot—I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool.
Father Benedict—That's what I mean.
Abbot— That, therefore, from the shears
The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands.
Father Benedict—And to the Master's.
Abbot— Ha! but in this case—
For your insinuation I perceive
Clearly, I think;—well, in this case, I say,
It does not follow that the Master gets
Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict,
Remember this: When God's bright seraphim
Collect His revenues, it matters not
Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine.
Father Benedict—Provided your hand pays, it matters not.