FAMILIAR COLLOQUIES.
man’s name, and place where he lives, shall be concealed. There was a cousin of mine, a Prior that was next in degree to the abbot of the Benedictine Order, but of that sort that don’t eat flesh, unless it were out of the place they call the great refectory; he was accounted a learned man, and he was desirous to be so accounted, about fifty Years of Age: it was his daily practice to drink freely, and live merrily; and once every twelve days to go to the hot-houses, to sweat out the diseases of his reins. Fi. Had he wherewithal to live at that rate? Bu. About six hundred florins a year. Fi. Such a poverty I myself would wish for. Bu. In short, with drinking and whoring he had brought himself into a Consumption. The Doctors had given him over; the Abbot order’d him to eat flesh, adding that terrible Sentence, Upon Pain of Disobedience; but he, tho’ at the Point of Death, could scarce be brought to taste Flesh, tho’ for many Years he had had no Aversion to Flesh.
Fi. A Prior and an Abbot well match’d! I guess who they are, for I remember I have heard the same Story from their own Mouths. Bu. Guess. Fi. Is not the Abbot a lusty fat Man, that has a stammering in his Speech; and the Prior a little Man, but straitbodied and long-visag’d? Bu. You have guess’d right.
Fi. Well, now I’ll make you Amends; I’ll tell you what I saw with my own Eyes but t’other Day; and what I was not only present at, but was in a Manner the chief Actor. There were two Nuns that went to pay a Visit to some of their Kinsfolks; and when they came to the Place, their Man-Servant had left behind him their Prayer-Book, which was according to the Custom of the Order and Place where they liv’d. Good God! What a vexatious Thing that was! They did not dare to go to Supper before they had said their Vespers, nor could they read in any Book but their own; and at the same Time all the Company was in great Haste to go to Supper: the Servant runs back, and late at Night brings the Book; and by that Time they had said their Prayers, and got to Supper, ’twas ten o’Clock at Night. Bu. That is not much to be found Fault with hitherto. Fi. You have heard but one Part of the Story yet. At Supper the Nuns begin to grow merry with Wine; they laugh’d, and jok’d, and kiss’d, and not over-modestly neither, till you could hardly hear what was said for the Noise they made; but no Body used more Freedom than those two Virgins that would not go to Supper before they had said their Prayers. After Supper there was dancing, singing of lascivious Songs, and such Doings I am asham’d to speak of; insomuch that I am much afraid that Night hardly pass’d very honestly; if it did, the wanton Plays, Nods and Kisses deceived me.
Bu. I do not blame the Nuns for this, so much as the Priests that look after them; but, come on, I’ll give you Story for Story, or rather a History that I myself was an Eye-Witness of. A little While since there were some Persons sent to Prison for baking Bread on a Sunday, tho’ at the same Time they wanted it. Indeed, I do not blame the Deed, but I do the Punishment. A little after, being Palm-Sunday, I had Occasion to go to the next Street, and being there about four o’Clock in the Afternoon, I saw a Sight, I can’t well tell whether I shall call it ridiculous or wretched: I scarce believe any Bacchanals ever had so much Lewdness in them; some were so drunk they reeled
