SCENE.--The Court of St. John's College, Cambridge. Enter the two
Deans on their way to morning chapel.

JUNIOR DEAN. Brother, I am much pleased with Samuel Butler,
I have observed him mightily of late;
Methinks that in his melancholy walk
And air subdued whene'er he meeteth me
Lurks something more than in most other men.

SENIOR DEAN. It is a good young man. I do bethink me
That once I walked behind him in the cloister;
He saw me not, but whispered to his fellow:
"Of all men who do dwell beneath the moon
I love and reverence most the senior Dean."

JUNIOR DEAN. One thing is passing strange, and yet I know not
How to condemn it, but in one plain brief word
He never comes to Sunday morning chapel.
Methinks he teacheth in some Sunday-school,
Feeding the poor and starveling intellect
With wholesome knowledge, or on the Sabbath morn
He loves the country and the neighbouring spire
Of Madingley or Coton, or perchance
Amid some humble poor he spends the day,
Conversing with them, learning all their cares,
Comforting them and easing them in sickness.

SENIOR DEAN. I will advance him to some public post,
He shall be chapel clerk, some day a Fellow,