SENIOR DEAN: I will advance him to some public post, He shall be chapel clerk, some day a fellow, Some day perhaps a Dean, but as thou sayst He is indeed an excellent young man -

Enter Butler suddenly without a coat, or anything on his head, rushing through the cloisters, bearing a cup, a bottle of cider, four lemons, two nutmegs, half a pound of sugar and a nutmeg grater.

Curtain falls on the confusion of Butler and the horror-stricken dismay of the two deans.

iv--On the Italian Priesthood

(Con arte e con inganno, si vive mezzo l'anno; Con inganno e con arte, si vive l'altra parte.)

In knavish art and gathering gear They spend the one half of the year; In gathering gear and knavish art They somehow spend the other part.

v--A Psalm of Montreal

The City of Montreal is one of the most rising and, in many respects, most agreeable on the American continent, but its inhabitants are as yet too busy with commerce to care greatly about the masterpieces of old Greek Art. In the Montreal Museum of Natural History I came upon two plaster casts, one of the Antinous and the other of the Discobolus--not the good one, but in my poem, of course, I intend the good one--banished from public view to a room where were all manner of skins, plants, snakes, insects, etc., and, in the middle of these, an old man stuffing an owl.

"Ah," said I, "so you have some antiques here; why don't you put them where people can see them?"

"Well, sir," answered the custodian, "you see they are rather vulgar."

He then talked a great deal and said his brother did all Mr. Spurgeon's printing.

The dialogue--perhaps true, perhaps imaginary, perhaps a little of the one and a little of the other--between the writer and this old man gave rise to the lines that follow:

Stowed away in a Montreal lumber room The Discobolus standeth and turneth his face to the wall; Dusty, cobweb-covered, maimed and set at naught, Beauty crieth in an attic and no man regardeth: O God! O Montreal!

Beautiful by night and day, beautiful in summer and winter, Whole or maimed, always and alike beautiful - He preacheth gospel of grace to the skin of owls And to one who seasoneth the skins of Canadian owls: O God! O Montreal!

When I saw him I was wroth and I said, "O Discobolus! Beautiful Discobolus, a Prince both among gods and men! What doest thou here, how camest thou hither, Discobolus, Preaching gospel in vain to the skins of owls?" O God! O Montreal!

And I turned to the man of skins and said unto him, "O thou man of skins, Wherefore hast thou done thus to shame the beauty of the Discobolus?" But the Lord had hardened the heart of the man of skins And he answered, "My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

"The Discobolus is put here because he is vulgar - He has neither vest nor pants with which to cover his limbs; I, Sir, am a person of most respectable connections My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

Then I said, "O brother-in-law to Mr. Spurgeon's haberdasher, Who seasonest also the skins of Canadian owls, Thou callest trousers 'pants,' whereas I call them 'trousers,' Therefore thou art in hell-fire and may the Lord pity thee!" O God! O Montreal!

"Preferrest thou the gospel of Montreal to the gospel of Hellas, The gospel of thy connection with Mr. Spurgeon's haberdashery to the gospel of the Discobolus?" Yet none the less blasphemed he beauty saying, "The Discobolus hath no gospel, But my brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." O God! O Montreal!

vi--The Righteous Man

The righteous man will rob none but the defenceless, Whatsoever can reckon with him he will neither plunder nor kill; He will steal an egg from a hen or a lamb from an ewe, For his sheep and his hens cannot reckon with him hereafter - They live not in any odour of defencefulness: Therefore right is with the righteous man, and he taketh advantage righteously, Praising God and plundering.

The righteous man will enslave his horse and his dog, Making them serve him for their bare keep and for nothing further, Shooting them, selling them for vivisection when they can no longer profit him, Backbiting them and beating them if they fail to please him; For his horse and his dog can bring no action for damages, Wherefore, then, should he not enslave them, shoot them, sell them for vivisection?

But the righteous man will not plunder the defenceful - Not if he be alone and unarmed--for his conscience will smite him; He will not rob a she-bear of her cubs, nor an eagle of her eaglets - Unless he have a rifle to purge him from the fear of sin: Then may he shoot rejoicing in innocency--from ambush or a safe distance; Or he will beguile them, lay poison for them, keep no faith with them; For what faith is there with that which cannot reckon hereafter, Neither by itself, nor by another, nor by any residuum of ill consequences? Surely, where weakness is utter, honour ceaseth.

Nay, I will do what is right in the eye of him who can harm me, And not in those of him who cannot call me to account. Therefore yield me up thy pretty wings, O humming-bird! Sing for me in a prison, O lark! Pay me thy rent, O widow! for it is mine. Where there is reckoning there is sin, And where there is no reckoning sin is not.

vii--To Critics and Others

O Critics, cultured Critics! Who will praise me after I am dead, Who will see in me both more and less than I intended, But who will swear that whatever it was it was all perfectly right: You will think you are better than the people who, when I was alive, swore that whatever I did was wrong And damned my books for me as fast as I could write them; But you will not be better, you will be just the same, neither better nor worse, And you will go for some future Butler as your fathers have gone for me. Oh! How I should have hated you!

But you, Nice People! Who will be sick of me because the critics thrust me down your throats, But who would take me willingly enough if you were not bored about me, Or if you could have the cream of me--and surely this should suffice: Please remember that, if I were living, I should be upon your side And should hate those who imposed me either on myself or others; Therefore, I pray you, neglect me, burlesque me, boil me down, do whatever you like with me, But do not think that, if I were living, I should not aid and abet you. There is nothing that even Shakespeare would enjoy more than a good burlesque of Hamlet.

viii--For Narcissus

(A)

(To be written in front of the orchestral score.)

May he be damned for evermore Who tampers with Narcissus' score; May he by poisonous snakes be bitten Who writes more parts than what we've written. We tried to make our music clear For those who sing and those who hear, Not lost and muddled up and drowned In over-done orchestral sound; So kindly leave the work alone Or do it as we want it done.

(B)

Part II

Symphony

(During which the audience is requested to think as follows:)