"I pray you be not overmuch disturbed, But really you should know it, Saul, the chance You fell in with this night at Bethany-- I mean your meeting of your sister there Confessed a bold disciple of the Way-- Is likely to engender consequence. It was a noble chance, Saul, from the Lord, Pushed to your hand--would you had used it nobly! Alas, at the extreme pinch, your virtue failed! I can excuse it, while regretting it, I myself, Saul. Not every one, I fear, Is naturally so lenient as I am. My sympathy is facile, but the most Will say, 'Why did not Saul send _her_ to prison?' Now what you need is, to forestall such talk By giving people something else to say. Fill their mouth full with daily fresh report Of other, and still other, great exploits Achieved by you in the same line, and then They either will forget that one lapse yours, Or cease, from the perversion of a sister, Connived at or colluded with by you, To accuse a taint and pravity of blood Inclining you yourself to heresy. "I give myself no end of trouble for you, And I have made discovery of the man You must not fail to move for as next prize. He is a notable fellow, full of quip, Quaint turn of phrase, and ready repartee, Each trick of tongue to catch the common ear, And mischievous accordingly; for he Boasts everywhere how, having been born blind And grown to forty years of age in blindness, He one day met Jesus of Nazareth, When that deceiver spat upon the ground And mixed an unguent of the clay, therewith Smearing his sightless balls, and bidding him Go wash them in the pool of Siloam; He went and washed, and came a seeing man. "Such is his story, and so plausibly He tells it that a wide belief he wins. 'Hirani' is the name by which he goes; Name self-assumed since his pretended cure, A kind of label that he boldly thrusts In people's faces to placard his lie. 'He made me see'--he, to wit, Jesus, mind-- As were no other 'he' in all the world! Well, this Hirani to be weaver feigns, Mere cover to that other trade he drives-- A famous flourishing one with him, they say-- Proselyte-making for the Nazarene. Clap him in prison, Saul, let him repeat His marvel to the unbelieving walls. At present, many of the Way are fled Hither and thither through the countryside, But this man tarries to rehearse his tale. So there your plan is, ready-wrought for you; Now, Saul, go sleep upon it, and farewell."