My house is divided like two persons
determined never to know each other.

Catholic    &    Protestant the two ends ( as if
one were a church & the other a brothel)
are opposed violently.

Actually they're
inextricably mixed. Hymns & prayers
proceed from the brothel: licensed revelries
(called festivals) are frequent in the church.

The archbishop who noticed nothing odd †
yesterday had tea & cakes here.

He put his hat
(rather carelessly I thought) on the bottom
of a fat lady who was resting for a moment
on a visit from the brothel to the church.

He said importantly, as if addressing the entire street:
“Friends - brothers - this castle [the bishop
evidently was quoting someone] is a pleasant seat.
It nimbly recommends itself to our gentle sense

... & taking up his hat which discreetly covered
the unnoticed bottom he hastily, dear chap, departed.

† Perpetually living in the midst of a totally
illogical conflict the simplicity of his
attitude seems natural.


These two arms of the Church, though in many respects alike, are deeply divided & refuse to work together.

The Archbishop (like Duncan) thinks his situation a happy one & his surroundings excellent.

He fails to notice - sometimes astonishingly - anything he prefers to ignore.