I’M A PEPPERY SORT OF A KING.
FREE AS A TETHERED ASS.
OH! DON’T THE DAY SEEM BLANK AND LONG.
HILARION—And so here we are, in the breast of the citadel. Hallo! what’s this? (Examining some robes left by the female graduates.) Why! Academic robes, robes worn no doubt by some of the undergraduates. Here, you fellows! Put them on. (They do so, and the robes reach to their feet. They look as any well-regulated Alton man looks in anything—extremely fetching. They burst out laughing.)