_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_.]
SCENE VI.--_The Court before the Priory_.
_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON ANTONIO.
_Isaac_. A plaguey while coming, this same father Paul.--He's detained
at vespers, I suppose, poor fellow.
_Don Ant_. No, here he comes.
_Enter_ FATHER PAUL.
Good father Paul, I crave your blessing.
_Isaac_. Yes, good father Paul, we are come to beg a favour.
_Paul_.
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