Canons (looking wildly in all directions). Where, my good Sir?
Dean. In my mind's eye—(Knocking heard) Who's there?
Fool. A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor Tom.
Enter the Great Bell, disguised as a mushroom.
Great Bell. Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through bricks and through mortar, through rope and windlass, through plank and scaffold; that hath torn down his balustrades, and torn up his terraces; that hath made him go as a common pedlar, with a wooden box upon his back. Do poor Tom some charity. Tom's a-cold.
Rafters, and planks, and such small deer,
Shall be Tom's food for many a year.
Censor. I feared it would come to this.
Dean. (as King Lear). The little dons and all, Tutor, Reader, Lecturer—see, they bark at me!
Censor. His wits begin to unsettle.
Dean (as Hamlet). Do you see yonder box, that's almost in shape of a tea-caddy?