Diggory. Yes, sir.
Roger. Who are with the Governor?
Diggory. The worthy ministers, Master Wilson and Master Dimsdell.
Roger. Very well.
[Exit Diggory, trying to recall the verse.
Ah! Diggory, thou art but a dram of love in a fluid ounce of fool! And so may we label all mankind. For instance: the Governor is a wise man and a politic; Wilson a good man and a pious; Dimsdell—ah! there I pause, for what fine formula can sum the qualities of that same Arthur Dimsdell? He's not a fool; nor mad; nor truly cataleptic—yet he's moody, falls in trance, and I suspect his power as a preacher comes from ecstasy. Something he is akin to genius—yet he hath it not, for though his aim be true enough, he often flashes in the pan when genius would have hit the mark. I'll write his case in Latin! What a study [top] that would be if I could first find out the reason why he clutches at his breast!—If once I find him in a trance, alone—ah! here they come.
Enter Governor Bellingham, Rev. John Wilson, Rev. Arthur Dimsdell, and following them, with a tray of wine, Diggory.
Wilson. Good morrow, Doctor.
Roger. Good morning, gentlemen.
Governor. [To Diggory.] Leave the wine within the summer house. Good morning, Doctor. When Mistress Prynne doth come conduct her hither.