"Now nay, Holy Father, now nay, now nay! Less penance may serve!" quoth Sir Ingoldsby Bray. "No champion free of the Cross was he; No belted Baron of high degree; No Knight nor Squire Did there expire; He was, I trow, but a bare-footed Friar! And the Abbot of Abingdon long may wait With his monks around him, and early and late May look from loop-hole, and turret, and gate, --He hath lost his Prior--his Prior his pate!" "Now Thunder and turf!" Pope Gregory said, And his hair raised his triple crown right off his head-- "Now Thunder and turf! and out and alas! A horrible thing has come to pass! What! cut off the head of a 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-- "_Meâ culpâ!_--in sooth I'm in pitiful case. _Peccavi! peccavi!_--I've done very 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 Holy Church shall come in for her share!" Pope Gregory paused, and he sat himself down, And he somewhat relaxed his terrible frown, And his Cardinals three they pick'd up his crown. "Now, if it be so that you own you've been wrong, And your heart is so stout, and your arm is so strong, And you really will fight like a trump all day long;-- If the Ingoldsby lands do lie here and there, And Holy Church shall come in for her share,-- Why, my Cardinals three, You'll agree With me, That it gives a new turn to the whole affair, And I think that the Penitent need not despair! --If it be so, as you seem to say, Rise up, rise up, Sir Ingoldsby Bray!