Abbot— Well.

Father Benedict—How did you learn it, then?

Abbot— I had a seed.
Your coming was the sun, your words the shower;
It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom.

Father Benedict—Strange, very strange.

Abbot— To see a stalk with flukes
Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural.

Father Benedict—I do not understand.

Abbot— Nor I.

Father Benedict— What?

Abbot— This:
How that a shepherd could believe a wolf
Had suckled a lost lamb.

Father Benedict— What do you mean?