A horrible thing has come to pass!
What! cut off the head of the Reverend Prior,
And say he was '_only_ (!!!) a bare-footed Friar!'--
'What Baron or Squire, Or Knight of the shire
Is half so good as a holy Friar?'
_O, turpissime! Vir nequissime!_
_Sceleratissime!--quissime!--issime!_
Never, I trow, have the _Servi servorum_
Had before 'em Such a breach of decorum,
Such a gross violation of _morum bonorum_,
And won't have again _sæcula sæculorum_!--
Come hither to me, My Cardinals three,
My Bishops in _partibus_, Masters in _Artibus_,
Hither to me, A.B. and D.D.,
Doctors and Proctors of every degree!
Go fetch me a book, go fetch me a bell
As big as a dustman's!--and a candle as well--
I'll send him where--good manners won't let me tell!"

--"Pardon and grace!--now pardon and grace!"
--Sir Ingoldsby Bray fell flat on his face--
"_Mea culpa!_--in sooth I'm in pitiful case.
Peccavi! peccavi!--I've done every wrong!
But my heart it is stout and my arm it is strong,
And I'll fight for Holy Church all the day long;
And the Ingoldsby lands are broad and fair,
And they're here and they're there and I can't tell you where,
And the Holy Church shall come in for her share!"
Pope Gregory paused and he sat himself down,
And he somewhat relaxed his terrible frown,