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_.]