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 Saint Dunstan 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 rorum
     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. 
            And what is the wonder! 
He seems to have taken you by surprise.

FRIAR FRANCIS. 
Hide the great flagon
From the eyes of the dragon!

FRIAR CUTHBERT. 
Pull the brown hood over your face! 
This will bring us into disgrace!

ABBOT. 
What means this revel and carouse? 
Is this a tavern and drinking-house? 
Are you Christian monks, or heathen devils,
To pollute this convent with your revels? 
Were Peter Damian still upon earth,
To be shocked by such ungodly mirth,
He would write your names, with pen of gall,