Friar John. From frailty and fall—­

  All. Good Lord, deliver us all!

Friar Cuthbert. And before the bell for matins sounds,
He takes his lantern, and goes the rounds,
Flashing it into our sleepy eyes,
Merely to say it is time to arise. 
But enough of that.  Go on, if you please,
With your story about St. Gildas de Rhuys.

Lucifer. Well, it finally came to pass
That, half in fun and half in malice,
One Sunday at Mass
We put some poison into the chalice. 
But, either by accident or design,
Peter Abelard kept away
From the chapel that day,
And a poor, young friar, who in his stead
Drank the sacramental wine,
Fell on the steps of the altar, dead! 
But look! do you see at the window there
That face, with a look of grief and despair,
That ghastly face, as of one in pain?

  Monks. Who? where?

  Lucifer. As I spoke, it vanished away again.

Friar Cuthbert. It is that nefarious
Siebald the Refectorarius. 
That fellow is always playing the scout,
Creeping and peeping and prowling about;
And then he regales
The Abbot with Scandalous tales.

Lucifer.  A spy in the convent?  One of the brothers
Telling scandalous tales of the others? 
Out upon him, the lazy loon! 
I would put a stop to that pretty soon,
In a way he should rue it.

  Monks.  How shall we do it?

Lucifer.  Do you, brother Paul,
Creep under the window, close to the wall,
And open it suddenly when I call. 
Then seize the villain by the hair,
And hold him there,
And punish him soundly, once for all.

Friar Cuthbert.  As St. Dustan of old,
We are told,
Once caught the Devil by the nose!

Lucifer.  Ha! ha! that story is very clever,
But has no foundation whatsoever. 
Quick! for I see his face again
Glaring in at the window pane;
Now! now! and do not spare your blows.

          (FRIAR PAUL opens the window suddenly, and seizes
                    SIEBALD. They beat him.)

  Friar Siebald.  Help! help! are you going to slay me?

  Friar Paul.  That will teach you again to betray me!

  Friar Siebald.  Mercy! mercy!

  Friar Paul (shouting and beating).  Rumpas bellorum lorum,
        Vim confer amorum
        Morum verorum, rorun. 
        Tu plena polorum!

Lucifer.  Who stands in the doorway yonder,
Stretching out his trembling hand,
Just as Abelard used to stand,
The flash of his keen, black eyes
Forerunning the thunder?

The Monks (in confusion).  The Abbot! the Abbot!

  Friar Cuthbert (to the girl).  Put on your disguise!

Friar Francis.  Hide the great flagon From the eyes of the dragon!