A Room in the Priory.
FATHER PAUL, FATHER FRANCIS, FATHER AUGUSTINE, and other FRIARS, discovered at a table drinking.
GLEE AND CHORUS.
This bottle’s the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine
We, planets, that are not able
Without his help to shine.
Let mirth and glee abound!
You’ll soon grow bright
With borrow’d light,
And shine as he goes round.
Paul. Brother Francis, toss the bottle about, and give me your toast.
Fran. Have we drunk the Abbess of St. Ursuline?
Paul. Yes, yes; she was the last.
Fran. Then I’ll give you the blue-eyed nun of St. Catherine’s.
Paul. With all my heart. — [Drinks.] Pray, brother Augustine, were there any benefactions left in my absence?
Aug. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in our masses.
Paul. Has he? let them be paid to our wine-merchant, and we’ll remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Anything more?
Aug. Yes; Baptista, the rich miser, who died last week, has bequeathed us a thousand pistoles, and the silver lamp he used in his own chamber, to burn before the image of St. Anthony.
Paul. ’Twas well meant, but we’ll employ his money better — Baptista’s bounty shall light the living, not the dead. St. Anthony is not afraid to be left in the dark, though he was. — [Knocking.] See who’s there.
[FATHER FRANCIS goes to the door and opens it.]
Enter PORTER.
Port. Here’s one without, in pressing haste to speak with Father Paul.
Fran. Brother Paul!
[FATHER PAUL comes from behind a curtain with a glass of wine, and in his hand a piece of cake.]
Paul. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our devotions?
Port. I thought they were finished.
Paul. No, they were not — were they, brother Francis?
Fran. Not by a bottle each.
Paul. But neither you nor your fellows mark how the hours go; no, you mind nothing but the gratifying of your appetites; ye eat, and swill, and sleep, and gourmandise, and thrive, while we are wasting in mortification.
Port. We ask no more than nature craves.
Paul. ’Tis false, ye have more appetites than hairs! and your flushed, sleek, and pampered appearance is the disgrace of our order — out on’t! If you are hungry, can’t you be content with the wholesome roots of the earth? and if you are dry, isn’t there the crystal spring? — [Drinks.] Put this away, — [Gives the glass] and show me where I am wanted. — [PORTER drains the glass. — PAUL, going, turns.] So you would have drunk it if there had been any left! Ah, glutton! glutton! [Exeunt.]