Ah Lord, Ah Lord! Siſter Angelica, pray come not in my Room, I am not viſible at preſent: muſt you needs ſurprize People thus in this condition? I thought I had made the Door faſt.

Well, well, hiſt, hiſt, why are you thus Alaram'd? a great hurt indeed, to have found thee changing thy Smock, or doing ſomething better; Intimate Friends ought not in any wiſe to conceal themſelves from one another. Sit thee down upon thy Bed in the ſame poſture thou waſt in: Ile go ſhut the Door.

I aſſure you my dear Siſter, that I ſhould have dyed for ſhame, if any other than you had ſurprized me in this pickle; but I am certain you have a great deal of affection for me; wherefore I have no reaſon to fear any thing from you whatſoever you may have ſeen.

Thou haſt reaſon my poor Chucky, to ſay what thou doſt; and though I ſhould not have for thee all the tenderneſs that a heart is capable of, nevertheleſs thy mind ought to be at reſt as to that. I have been now a Nun theſe Seven years, and I came into the Cloyſter at Thirteen: and I may ſay, that 〈◊〉 not yet by my ill conduct, 〈◊〉 any ones enmity; having always had detraction in abhorrence, and doing nothing more to my hearts content, than when I render ſervice to any of the Society. This courſe of Life has procur'd me the affection of the moſt part; much above all, has aſſur'd me of that of our Abbeſs, which is of no ſmall uſe to me upon occaſion.

I know it, and have been often amaz'd, how you could ſo manage thoſe who are of a contrary Party: It is undoubtedly requiſite to be as well ſtock'd with wit and learning, as you are to manage ſuch like Perſons. For my part, I have never been able to Bridle my ſelf in my affections, nor endeavour to engage thoſe to be my Friends, who are naturally indifferent to me; It is the imperfection of my Genius which is an Enemy of Conſtraint, and will in all things act freely.

The truth is, that it is very 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 ſweet and delightful to ſuffer owns ſelf to be led and conducted by that pure and innocent Nature, in only following the inclinations it gives us. But Honour and Ambition which are come to diſturb the repoſe of Cloyſters, oblig'd thoſe who are engag'd in e'm, to divide themſelves, and to do often out of prudence, what they cannot do out of inclination.

That is to ſay, an infinite Number who think themſelves Miſtreſſes of your heart, do only poſſeſs the painting of it, and that all your proteſtations aſſure 'em often of a bleſſing which they do not really enjoy, I muſt own that I ſhould very much ſuſpect my being of that number, and that I am a Victime of your Policy.

Ah my Dear! Thou doſt me an injury, diſſimulation has no ſhare in ſuch ſtrong friendſhip as ours! I am wholly thine, and though Nature had produced me from the ſame blood, it could not have given me ſentiments more tender than theſe I feel. Allow me to Embrace thee, that our hearts may ſpeak to one another in the midſt of our Kiſſes.

Ah God! how thou graſpeſt me in thy Arms, thou little thinkeſt I am naked in my Smock! Ah! thou haſt ſet me all on a Fire.

Ah! how finely doth that Vermilion wherewith thou art at preſent animated, Augment the Luſtre of thy Beauty? Ah! How Amiable does that Brightneſs render thee which now ſparkles in thy eyes? No, no, my pretty Rogue, I will impart to thee my moſt ſecret acquiſitions, and give thee a perfect Idea of the Conduct of a Prudent Nun; I do not ſpeak of that Auſterity and Scrupulous wiſdom, which is only nouriſh'd by faſtings, and only coverd with Hair Cloth; there is another Prudence leſs ſavage, which all underſtanding perſons make profeſſion of following, and which has no ſmall affinity to thy Amorous Nature.

I of an Amorous Nature, my Phiſiognomy muſt certainly be very deceitful, or elſe you are not perfectly well acquainted with the Rules of that Science, there is nothing which touches me leſs than this Paſſion, and for theſe three years that I have been a Nun, it has not given me the leaſt diſturbance.

That I very much doubt, and am of Opinion, if thou wouldſt ſpeak with more ſincerity, thou wouldſt own that I have ſaid nothing but what is true. How a Maiden of Sixteen, of ſo quick a Wit, and ſo handſome a Body as thine, ſhould be cold and inſenſible: that I cannot perſwade my ſelf, all thy moſt careleſs actions have aſſur'd me of the contrary, And that I know not what, which I perceived through the Key-hole of the Door before I came into the Room, makes me know that thou art a diſſembler.

Ah Lord! Ah Lord! I am undone!

Go thou ſilly Creature, what ſhouldſt thou apprehend from me? prethee tell me, haſt thou reaſon to be afraid of a friend? I told thee this with no other deſign than to make thee my confident in ſeveral ſuch like caſes of my own: truly a fine buſineſs it is, but what the moſt ſcrupulous put in practiſe, and this is called in Cloiſtral terms, The Amuzement of the Young, and the Paſſion of the Old.

But pray what did you ſee then?

Thou wearieſt me with thy fooling: doſt thou not know that Love baniſhes all fear, and that if we both mean to live in ſo perfect a correſpondence as I deſire we may, thou muſt hide nothing from me, and I muſt keep nothing ſecret from thee; Buſs me my pretty heart; conſidering thy perverſneſs, a Diſcipline would be of good uſe to puniſh thee for the ſmall returns thou makeſt to the kindneſs one ſhews thee. Good God, how ſoft and plump art thou! Ah! thou art of a ſweet delicate ſhape? Let me—

Ah! For Heaven's ſake let me alone! I cannot recollect my ſelf from this ſurprize: but in good earneſt, what did you ſee?

Doſt thou not know thou little fool thou? what I might have ſeen? I ſaw thee in ſuch a Poſture and Action as if thou pleas'ſt I will ſerve thee in my ſelf; wherein my hand ſhall at preſent do thee the Office which thy own a while ago did ſo charitably render to another part of thy Body; A very great crime indeed that I have diſcover'd, it is but what my Lady Abbeſs practices, as ſhe her ſelf ſays, in the moſt innocent diverſions; It is but what the Prioreſs does not reject; but what the miſtriſs of the novices calls The Exſtatical Intromiſſion? Thou couldſt not have believed, that ſuch Holy Souls could have been capable of employing themſelves in ſuch profane Exercices? their mean and their outward behaviour have deceived thee, and that ſhew of Sanctity, with which they know ſo well how to deck themſelves upon occaſion, has made thee think they live in their Bodyes, as if they were compoſed of nothing but the Spirit. Ah my dear Child, I will inſtruct thee with a Number of things which thou art ignorant of, if thou would'ſt but have ſome confidence in me; and if thou letteſt me but know the diſpoſition of mind and conſcience thou art in at preſent: after which thou ſhalt be my Confeſſor, I will be thy Penitent; and I proteſt, that I will as freely unboſom to thee my heart, as if thou thy ſelf felteſt the pureſt motions of it.

It ſhall ſo, without doubt, My Dear, and thou wilt afterwards find, that there is nothing more delightful in this World, than to have a true Friend, who can be the depoſitary of our Secrets, of our Thoughts, and of our very Afflictions. Ah how Eaſing and Comfortable are thoſe diſcloſings of ones mind, in ſuch like Occaſions. Speak then: Prethee, My Dear, ſpeak. I will ſit down by thee upon thy Bed: 'Tis not neceſſary that thou dreſs thy ſelf, the Seaſon allows thee, to continue as thou art, Methinks! Thou art ſo much the more lovely, and the more thou aproacheſt the Eſtate wherein Nature brought thee into the World, the more Charms and Beauty doſt thou appear with. Hug me, My Dear Agnes, before thou beginneſt, and confirm by thy kiſſes the mutual Proteſtations We have interchanged of loving one another Eternally. Ah! how Pure and Innocent are theſe Kiſſes! Ah how full of Tenderneſs and Sweetneſs! Ah how they tickle me with Delight! Hold a little my Pretty Heart, I am all of a Flame, theſe Carreſſes have brought me into a Panting Condition; Ah God! How powerful is Love; and what will become of Me, if meer Kiſſes Animate and Tranſport Me to ſuch a Pitch?

It is indeed a very difficult matter to contain ones Self within the bounds of ones Duty; when We in the leaſt ſlacken the Reines to that Paſſion; Would you believe it Angelica? Theſe little wantonings, which in the bottom are nothing, have had a wonderful effect upon me? Ah, Ah, Ah, let Me breath a little: Methinks my heart is too much pent up at preſent: Ah! theſe ſighs give me eaſe. I begin to have for you a new Affection, and more Strong and Tender than before: I know not from whence this proceeds; for can meer Kiſſes cauſe ſo much diſorder in a Soul? The truth is, you are very dextrous in your Carreſſes, and all your wayes are extraordinary engaging; for you have ſo won upon me, that I am more yours than I am my own; Beſides I am afraid, that in the Exceſs of the ſatisfaction which I have enjoyed; there may have been ſome ſuch things as may give me occaſion to reflect upon my conſcience, which I ſhould be very ſorry for; for when I am to ſpeak to my Confeſſour upon thoſe ſort of Matters, I dye for ſhame, and know not where to begin. Ah Lord! How weak are We poor ſilly Creatures, & how vain are our efforts, for the ſurmounting the leaſt Sallyes, and the leaſt Attacks of a corrupted Nature.

This is what I watcht for, I know thou haſt ever been ſomething ſcrupulous upon ſeveral Subjects, and that a certain tenderneſs of Conſcience has given thee no ſmall trouble. This it is to fall into the Hands of a Curs'd and Ignorant Directour: For my part, I will tell thee that I have been taught by a Learned Man, with what air I am to comport my ſelf, for the living happy all my life long; yet without doing any thing that might diſtaſt and ſcandalize the ſight of a regular Society, or that was directly contrary to the Commands of God.

Oblige me Siſter Angelica, by giving me a perfect Idea of that happy Conduct; believe that I am entirely diſpoſed to hear you, and to ſuffer my ſelf to be perſwaded by your diſcourſes, when I am not able to deſtroy them by ſuch as are more ſtronger, and more prevailing. The promiſe I have given you of diſcloſing my ſelf wholly to you, ſhall by theſe means be but the better obſerved, becauſe that inſenſibly in my anſwers which ſhall partake in our entertainment, you will obſerve what Method has been taken with me, and upon what foot I am fetled, and you will judge by the ſincere Confeſſion I ſhall make to you of all things, of the good or ill courſe I ſhall Steer.

Dear Child, thou wilt be ſurpriz'd perhaps at the Leſſons I am going to give thee, and thou wilt be amazed to hear a Maiden between Nineteen and Twenty years of Age, pretend to Dogmatize and Learning; and to ſee her Pry into the moſt hidden ſecrets of Religious Policy. Do not my Dear, fancy that a Spirit of Vain Glory animates my Words; no, I know I was even leſs knowing than thou at thy age, and that all I have Learned, has ſucceeded to an extream Ignorance. But I muſt likewiſe own to thee, that I ought to be accus'd of ſtupidity, if the Cares and Pains ſeveral Great Men have taken to form me, and render me perfect, had not been followed with any fruit: and if the Underſtanding they have given me of ſeveral Tongues, had not made me make ſome Progreſs by the Reading of good Books.

My dear Angelica, begin your Inſtructions I beſeech you: I Languiſh under the impatience I am in of hearing your Reaſonings: you never had a Schollar more attentive, than I ſhall be to all your Diſcourſes.

As we are not born of a ſex to make Laws, we ought to obey thoſe we have found, and follow as known Truths, many things which of themſelves do only paſs with others for Opinions. I pretend, my dear Child, to confirm thee truly in the Sentiments thou haſt, that there is one Juſt and Merciful, who demands our homages, and who with the ſame mouth he forbids us what is Evil, Commands us the practiſe of what is Good. But as all do not agree what ought to be called Good or Evil; and that an infinite number of actions for which we are made to have a horrour, are received and approved of by our Neighbours; I will tell thee in few words, what a Reverend Father Jeſuite, who has a peculiar affection for me, told me at the time he endeavoured to open & enlighten my evil mind and underſtanding, and to render e'm capable of the preſent Speculations.

As all your happyneſs, my dear Angelica (ſo ſpoke he to me) depends on the perfect knowledg of the Religious Eſtate you have Embraced, I am willing to give you a natural account thereof, and at the ſame time furniſh you with the means of living, in your ſolitude, without any diſquiet or trouble which proceed from ſuch engagements. Now to go on methodically in the Inſtructions I am to give you, you muſt remark, that Religion (I underſtand by that word, all the Monaſtical Orders) is compoſed of two Bodyes; whereof, the one is partly Celeſtial and Supernatural, and the other Terreſtrial and Corruptible, which is but an invention of Man; the one is Political, and the other Myſtical by Relation to Jeſus Chriſt, who is the only head of the true Church. The one is permanent, becauſe it conſiſts in the Word of God, which is Immutable and Eternal; and the other is ſubject to an infinite number of changes, becauſe it depends on that of Man, which is finite and fallible. This being ſuppoſed, thoſe two Bodyes are to be ſeparated, and a juſt diſtinction of them is to be made, that we may know what we are obliged to. But it is no ſmall difficulty to ſolve them well, the Political as the weakeſt part, has ſo united it ſelf to the other, which is the ſtrongeſt, that all is almoſt at preſent confounded, and the voice of man confuſed with that of God. From this diſorder is it that do ariſe the illuſions, ſcruples, wracks, torments and groanings of Conſcience, which often bring a poor Soul into deſpair; and thence it is, that this yoak, which ought to be light and eaſie to bear, is become by the impoſition of men, heavy, painful, and inſupportable to many.

Amongſt ſuch thick Clouds of darkneſs, and ſo viſible an alteration of all things, we muſt wholly and ſolely apply our ſelves to the Body of the Tree, without troubling our ſelves to embrace it's ſprouts or it's branches. We muſt content our ſelves with Obeying the Precepts of the Soveraign Legislator, and hold for Certain, that all the Works of Supererogation, to which the Voice of men would engage us, ought not to give us a moments diſquiet. We muſt in Obeying that God who Commands us, conſider if his Will is written with his own finger, if it proceeds from the mouth of His Son, or if it only departs from that of the People. So as Siſter Angelica, may without ſcruple, lighten her chains, embeliſh her ſolitary way of Life, and by giving a chearful Air to all her Actions, become tame, grow familiar, and be acquainted with the World: ſhe may, continued he, diſpence her ſelf, as far as prudence will allow of, from the Execution and performance of all that hodge podge of vows and Promiſes, which ſhe has indiſcreetly made before men: and may again re-enter into the ſame Rights ſhe ſtood poſſeſs'd of before her engagement, following only theſe firſt Obligations.

This is, purſued he, for what regards the inward Peace; Now as for the outward, you cannot without ſinning againſt prudence, diſpence your ſelf from ſeemingly affording a Complyance to the Laws, Cuſtomes & Manners, which you ſubjected your ſelf to, at your entrance into the Cloiſter. You muſt alſo ſeem zealous and fervent in the moſt painful Excrciſes, if any intereſt of Glory or of Honour depends on thoſe Occupations. You may deck your Chamber with ſackcloth and hair Shirts, and by that devout furniture merit as much as ſhe, who indiſcreetly ſhall go laſh and mortifie her Body.

Ah! how rejoyced am I to hear thee; the extream delight I took in thy diſcourſe has hindered me from giving thee any interruption, and that freedom of Conſcience which thou beginneſt to aford me, by thy diſcourſe, unloads me almoſt of an infinite number of troubles wherewith I was tormented. But proceed I beſeech thee, and tell me what was the deſign of Policy, in the eſtabliſhment of ſo many Orders, whoſe Rules and Conſtitutions are ſo rigorous?

We may conſider in the foundation of all Monaſteries, two workmen who hath laboured therein, namely the Founder and Policy. The Intention of the former has often been Pure, Holy, and far from all the deſigns of the other. And without having any other proſpect than the Salvation of Souls, he has propoſed rules and ways of Living, which he thought neceſſary, or at leaſt uſeful, to his Spiritual advancement, and to that of his Neighbour. By this means have Deſarts been populated and Cloiſters built; the Zeal of one Perſon alone enflamed ſeveral with the like, and their Principal Occupation being to ſing continually the Praiſes of the true God, they draw by thoſe Pious exerciſes whole companies, who united themſelves to them, and made but one Body. I ſpeak in this of what paſſed in the Fervency of the firſt Ages. Now as for the reſt, we muſt take another Byaſs in our Reaſonings, and not imagine that this primitive Innocence, and this fine Character of Devotion did long preſerve it ſelf, and that it has been derived to & inherited by thoſe we ſee at preſent.

Policy, which can bear with nothing faulty in a State, ſeeing the encreaſe of theſe recluſed people, their diſorder and extravagancy, was obliged to Provide againſt further miſchief, thereupon baniſhed ſeveral, retrenched the Conſtitutions of others, which ſhe did not think neceſſary for the publick Intereſt. It would willingly have got intirely rid of theſe Blood-ſuckers, who in an horrible Idleneſs and Lazineſs nouriſhed themſelves with the labour of the poor people. But this Buckler of Religion wherewith they covered themſelves, and the Spirit of the vulgar People, which they had already decoyed and infatuated, have made her to go another way to work, that ſo ſuch ſorts of Companies or Societies might not be entirely uſeleſs to the Common-Wealth.

Thus Policy has looked upon all thoſe Houſes as Common places where it might diſcharge it ſelf of theſe following ſuperfluities: It makes uſe of them for the Eaſe of Families, which the great number of Children would render poor and indigent, if they had not places to retire to: And that their retreat might be without hopes of Return, it has invented Vows, by which it pretends to bind us and wed us indiſſolvably to the ſtate it has made us embrace: It makes us renounce likewiſe the Rights which nature has given us, and ſeparates us ſo from the world, that we no longer make a part thereof. Thou conceiveſt all this well enough?

Yes I do: but from whence comes it, that this curſed Policy, which of free people renders us ſlaves, approves more of thoſe rules which have nothing but what's Auſtere and Rigorous, than of thoſe that are leſs ſevere and painful?

Why this is the Reaſon. It conſiders all Religious Orders, as Fryers, Nuns, and the Reſt, as members retrenched from its Body, and as parts ſeparated, whoſe life does not leane to it particularly for any thing beneficial, but much rather damageable to the publick. And as it would be an action, that would appear inhumane, to take 'em away openly, it makes uſe of Stratagems, and under pretext of Devotion, it engages thoſe poor Victims (as it were) to cut their own throats, and to load themſelves with ſo many faſts, penances and mortifications, that at length theſe Innocents fall under 'em, & make way by their death for others, who are to be as miſerable, if they have not more underſtanding. After this manner does a Father often become the Executioner of his own children, and without thinking of it, Sacrifices them to Policies, when he meant to make them an Offering to God.

Ah the piteous effect of a deteſtable Government! Thou giveſt me life, my deareſt Angelica, in withdrawing me by thy reaſons from the High Road that I was following. Few Perſons did practice more than I did the moſt ſevere Mortifications; I have ſwing'd my ſelf off with Diſcipline, Blows, and Laſhes, often for to combat the innocent motions of Nature, which my Directour would needs perſwade me were horrible diſorders. Ah! have I been ſo miſtaken then? it is undoubtedly by the means of that cruel Maxime, That the mitigated Orders are deſpiſed. Oh God, Do you thus ſuffer your name to be abuſed by unjuſt executions? and do you allow men to counterfeit you in this manner?

Ah my poor child, I perceive by theſe exclamations, that thou ſtill wanteſt ſome light, to ſee clearly and univerſally into all things; let us pauſe there; thy mind is not at preſent capable of a more nice ſpeculation. Love God and thy Neighbour, and believe that all the Law is contain'd in theſe two Commandments.

No, my pretty heart, thou ſhalt be fully inſtructed, and I will lend thee a Book which will perfect thy Knowledg, and wherein thou wilt eaſily learn, what I ſhould not be able to explain to thee, without being out of Countenance.

Thats ſufficient; I muſt needs own I found this ſaying very pleaſant. That the Cloisters are the Common ſhoars, where Policy diſcharges it ſelf of it's ſuperfluities; Methinks one could not ſpeak after a more ſordid and more humbling manner?

The Truth is, 'tis ſomething a bold expreſſion; but it is not much more offenſive, than that of another, who ſaid, That the Fryers and Nuns were in the Church, what the Rats and Mice were in the Ark of Noah.

Right, and I admire the eaſyneſs wherewith you utter your thoughts, I find I would not for all I may have moſt Dear, but that the opportunity of my doors being half open had given occaſion to our diſcourſe: yet I have comprehended the ſence of all your Words.

Well! thou wilt then make a good uſe of 'em; and that beautiful Body, which is not culpable of any Crime, ſhall it ſtill be treated, as if it were the moſt infamous Criminal upon the Earth?

No, I intend to give it ſatisfaction for what I have already made it ſuffer; I ask its pardon, and particularly for a ſevere Diſcipline, which I but yeſterday inflicted upon it by order of my Confeſſour.

Kiſs me, my pretty Child, I am more moved with what thou telleſt me, than if I had made the tryal upon my ſelf; that puniſhment muſt be the laſt thou art to mortifie thy ſelf with: But prethee didſt thou hurt thy ſelf much?

Alas! my zeal was indiſcreet, and I fancied the more ſtroaks that I gave, the more did I merit; my plump Body, and my youth rendered me ſenſible to the leaſt laſhes; ſo as at the end of this fair exerciſe, my Backſide was all of a Flame; nay, for ought I know I broke the fleſh, and made a wound, for that I was wholly tranſported, when I outraged it ſo cruelly.

My pretty little Dear, priddee let me ſee and ſearch it, Ile ſee what an ill managed fervency is capable of?

O Lord, Why muſt I ſuffer this? what you are then in earneſt? I cannot endure it without confuſion, Oh! Oh!

Hey day, to what purpoſe then was all my diſcourſe, if thou art ſtill withheld by a ſilly Baſhfulneſs? What hurt is there in granting me my requeſt.

Indeed indeed I am to blame, and your Curioſity is not to be found fault with; ſatisfy it according to thy deſires.

So, ſo, this beautiful face that's alwayes vailed is now uncovered; get thee on thy knees on thy Bed, and douk down thy head a little that I may ſee the violence of thy Blows. Ah good Lord how 'tis ſtreaked! methinks I ſee Chyna Taffetas, or elſe the sky at Sun-Seting; you muſt needs be very devout at the Myſtery of Flagellation, ſince you ſcourge your Buttocks at this rate?

Well now you have ſufficiently contemplated this innocent Outrage? Ah Lord what makes you grope there! Ah let it alone that it may recover its former complexion, and get rid of that ſtranger of a colour. Pooh, what! do you kiſs it?

Lye ſtill, my pretty Rogue, be not refractory, I have the moſt Compaſſionate ſoul in the World; and as it is a work of mercy to comfort the afflicted, Tis my Opinion that I cannot afford them too many Careſſes, for the worthily acquitting my ſelf of that Duty. Ah! this part of thy Body is delicately well made: and what a Luſtre does it receive from its whiteneſs and plumpneſs; I perceive alſo another part, which is no leſs well endowed by Nature; Tis Nature it ſelf.

Prethee take away thy hand from thence, if thou meaneſt not to cauſe there an inflamation which cannot eaſily be exſtinguiſhed? I I muſt needs own to thee my weakneſs, I am the moſt ſenſible Maiden that ever was, and what would not cauſe in others the leaſt Emotion, often puts me all in diſorder.

What then you are not of ſo cold a temper, as thou wouldeſt needs have perſwaded me at the beginning of the converſation? and I fancy thou wilt play thy part, as well as any one I know, when I have put thee into the hands of true honeſt Fryers; for this reaſon I would wiſh that the time of the retreat, I am going to enter into according to cuſtome, might be deferred, that ſo we might be together in the Parlour: But no matter, I ſhall comfort my ſelf with the account thou'lt give me of all that paſſes, namely, Whether the Abbot performs better than the Jeſuite, or the Fryer than the Monk; and in ſhort, if all the whole Prieſthood is able to give thee full ſatisfaction.

Ah I fancy I ſhall be very much at a loſs in thoſe ſorts of entertainments, and that they will find me a mere Novice in point of Amours.

Trouble not your head, they know what courſe is to be taken in ſuch occaſions, and a quarter of an hour with them will render thee more knowing, than all the precepts thou mighteſt receive from me could do in a week. Come, cover your Back-ſide for fear thou ſhould'ſt catch cold; ſtay let me kiſs it once more, and again, and again.

Your are very wanton; do you think I would have born with theſe follies? no, but that I knew there was no hurt in all this.

If this was offending I ſhould ſin every moment, for the Schollars and Penſionaries, being committed to my care, obliges me to viſit their back apartments very often. But yeſterday I whipt one rather for my own ſatisfaction, than for any fault ſhe had committed; I took great delight in contemplating her, ſhe is very pretty, and is already thirteen years of age.

I long for that employment of Miſtriſs of the School, that I might take the like divertiſement! I have a mighty fancy to it, and I ſhould be overjoyed, might I ſee in what thou haſt ſo attentively conſidered in my Perſon.

I am not at all ſurprized at thy requeſt, we are all made of the ſame Paſt. Hold I will put my ſelf into thy poſture; well now lift up my Pettecoats and my Smock as high as you can.

I have a great deſire to take my Diſcipline, and ſo order the buſineſs, that theſe two twin Siſters may have nothing to reproach me with.

Oh! Oh, Oh, Hold! What do you do; theſe ſorts of ſports do not pleaſe me, but when they are not violent? Hold, hold, if thy Devotion ſhould now happen to revive, I ſhould be undone! Oh God! • hou haſt a very flexible arm; I have a deſign to aſſociate thee in my Office, but you muſt uſe a little more Moderation.

You have great reaſon indeed to complain, this is not the tenth part of the blows I have received; Ile defer the reſt till another time, ſomething muſt be allowed to thy little courage. Doſt thou know that this part becomes ſo much the more beautiful; a certain flame which animates it, Communicates to it a Vermilion more bright and pure, than all that of Spain. Get a little nearer the window that the light may diſcover all its beauties—So, now its well, I could never be weary with looking on't. I ſee all I deſire, even its very neighbourhood. Why doſt cover that part with thy hand.

Alas, thou mayſt look ont as well as the Reſt; if there be any hurt in this occupation, yet it is not prejudicial to any Body, and does not any wiſe diſturb the publick tranquility.

How can it diſturb it, ſince we are no longer members of the publick? beſides faults concealed are half pardoned.

I alſo believe, that Fathers and Mothers would never ſuffer their Children to come into our Houſes, if they but knew the Diſorders that are committed there.

There's no doubt of that; but as moſt of the transgreſſions here are kept ſecret, and that Diſſimulation domineers more in Convents, than in any other place, all thoſe who dwell in 'em do not perceive the faults and diſorders, but ſerve themſelves to engage others. Beſides the particular intereſt of Families does often get the better over many other Conſiderations.

The Confeſſours and Directours of Cloiſters have a peculiar talent to draw into their nets poor innocent Girls, who fall into a ſnare when they thought to have found a treaſure.

True, and I have found it ſo in my own perſon. I had no inclination towards Religion, I diſputed briskly againſt the reaſons of thoſe who perſwaded me to it; and I ſhould never have taken the vows, if a Jeſuite, who at that time governed this Monaſtery, had not undertook the matter. A Families concern obliged my Mother, who bare me a tender affection, who had alwayes oppoſed my being a Nun, to give her conſent to it; I reſiſted it a long time, becauſe I did not foreſee, that the Count de la Roche my eldeſt Brother, wh by right of Nobility, and the Cuſtomes of the Country, would have for himſelf almoſt all the Eſtates and Riches of the Family, and that we being ſix of us left, without any other ſupport, than what he promiſed us, which according to his humour muſt have been but a very ſmall matter: At length he reſigned a thouſand pounds, as he told me, of thoſe pretentions, to which were added four hundred more, ſo that I brought fourteen hundred Pounds in making my profeſſion in this Convent: But to return to the Cunning of him that drew me in, thou mayſt know the buſineſs was ſo ordered, that I met with him one afternoon, that I went to make a viſit to one of my Couzens who was a Nun, and who long'd to ſee me in the habit of a Religious.

Was it not Siſter Victoria?

Ay the very ſame. Thus being all three in the ſame Parlour, Victoria and I, began with the compliments and civilities uſual in the Firſt interviews; they were followed with a diſcourſe of this Loyaliſt, touching the vanities of the age, and the difficulty of working out our own Salvation in the World; which did very much diſpoſe my mind to ſuffer it ſelf to be ſeduced: Theſe were nevertheleſs but ſlight preparations, he had many other ſubtilties to inſinuate into my Boſom, and to make me eſpouſe the ſentiments they lured me with: He told me ſometimes, that he obſerved in my Phyſiognomy the true Character of a Religious Soul; that he had a particular gift in the diſtinguiſhing thereof; and that I could not without doing an injury to God (ſo he ſaid) conſecrate to the World ſo perfect a Beauty as mine.

He took the right courſe; but what anſwer didſt thou make to all this?

I preſently fell a combating theſe firſt Reaſons, by others which I oppoſed againſt him, which he deſtroyed with an admirable artifice. Beſides, Victoria was aiding to the deluding me, and ſhew'd me religion in ſuch coulours, as made it ſeem to have ſome Charms, and cunningly hid from me all that was capable of giving me any diſtaſte: In ſhort, the Jeſuite, who as I had learnt had made more difficult conqueſts, uſed his utmoſt efforts to make ſure of mine. And was ſucceſsful in his undertaking by the deſcription he gave me of the World and of Religions, and conſtrained me by the force of his Eloquence, ſtrictly to embrace his Party.

But prethee what ſaid he that was capable of exerciſing ſo abſolute a power over thy mind?

I cannot tell thee all the Circumſtances for he held me three hours at the great; thou ſhalt only know, that he proved to me by Reaſons which I thought ſtrong, That this was my Vocation wherein alone I could attain to my Salvation; That there was no ſafety for me, nor way except that, that the World was full of, Rocks and Precipices; That the Exceſs of the Religious was much better than the Moderation of the Worldly; That the repoſe and Contemplation of the former, was at the ſame time more delightful and more meritorious, than the action and all the Hurry of the latter; That it was in Cloiſters alone, that one could converſe familiarly with God; and by conſequence to render ones ſelf worthy of ſo Holy and ſo Excellent a Communication, we were to flye the Company of men. That it was in theſe places that the remnant of the Ancient Chriſtians were preſerved, and where might be ſeen the true Image of the primitive Church.

It was hardly poſſible to ſpeak with more Eloquence, and at the ſame time with more Cunning; for I obſerve that he ſaid not to thee a word of the rigors and Auſterityes, that might ſtartle thee and divert thee from following the bait.

Thou art miſtaken; he forgot nothing. But the Pains and Mortifications he told me of, were ſeaſoned with ſo much ſweetneſs, that I found 'em not diſtaſteful to my palate. I will hide nothing from you, ſaid he to me; theſe devout Societies, whoſe number I hope you will ſhortly augment, labour day and night by their Auſterities and Penances, to ſubdue the Pride and Inſolence of Nature: They exerciſe over their Senſes a violence which laſts alwayes; without dying their Soul is ſeparated from their Body; and equally deſpiſing grief and Voluptuouſneſs, they live as if they were only made of the Spirit alone. This is not all, purſued he, with a perſwaſive tone, they make a rigorous Sacrifice of their Liberty, they ſtrip themſelves of all their goods to enrich themſelves only with hopes, and impoſe by ſolemn vows the neceſſity of a perpetual Vertue.

This Diſciple of Loyala, was a Maſter Orator, I wiſh I knew Him.

Yes, my pretty Child, I was perſwaded by this Quack; His words changed me in a moment, they ſnatcht me from my ſelf, and made me eagerly court what I had conſtantly avoided: I became the moſt ſcrupulous perſon in the World; and becauſe he had told me, that out of the Cloiſter I could not work my Salvation, I imagined until I was got into it, that I had all the Devils about me. Since that time he himſelf has endeavoured to make me recover my Right Senſes, he has given me ſuch inſtructions, as were capable of freeing me out of the Errors he had plung'd me in, and it is to His Morals that I owe all the Repoſe and Quiet of mind that I now poſſeſs.

Prethee tell me quickly who this man is.

Tis Father Raucourt.

Ah! He is too prudent to run ſuch hazards! He ſaw thee under an extraordinary Bigottry, in horrible ſcruples, and knew that a Maiden is not ſo eaſily reduced from one extremity to the other. Beſides if one Saint alone ſhould enlighten all the Blind, there would be no more Miracles for others to do; thou underſtandeſt me? that is to ſay, If thou had hadſt Faith, thou wouldſt have been Cured, and that if that wiſe Directour had found in thee ſome diſpoſitions to follow his Ordinances, he would have been this Phiſician.

I believe it; but I had as lieve have the Obligation thereof to thee as to him. Tell me I beſeech thee, ſome Circumſtances of the Life of that Bleſſed Man?

I will ſo, My Pretty Heart, but Kiſs me, and Embrace me very Amourouſly firſt: Ah! Ah! that's fine. Ah how am I charm'd with the Beauty of thy Mouth and Eyes! one of thy Kiſſes alone Tranſport me more than I am able to Exp eſs!

Begin then? Ah thou art a mighty Lover of Kiſſing!

I am never weary of Careſſing what is Lovely. Since you knew Father Raucourt, it is not neceſſary that I tell thee, that he is the man of the World, the moſt intriguing, the moſt Dextrous and the moſt ingenious that can be found. I will only tell thee, that in point of Amity, he is nice to the higheſt Degree, and as he ſets ſome value upon himſelf, many qualities are requiſite for to pleaſe him. Amongſt all his Conqueſts he reckoned none more Glorious, than that he had made of a young Nun of a Convent in this City, who is called Siſter Virginia.

I have heard talk of her, as of a perfect Beauty, but I know no other Circumſtances of the Matter.

It is the Lovelieſt Perſon that can be ſeen, if the Picture her Gallant has ſhewed me of her be Faithful; as for Wit ſhe abounds with it as much as ſhe can deſire, ſhe is jocund and Facetious, Playes upon ſeveral Inſtruments, and Sings with Charms capable of bewitching peoples Hearts. Our Jeſuite had already acquired her intirely to himſelf for ſome Months, and they both enjoyed that ſweet Tranquility which makes all the Happineſs of Lovers; when Jealouſie began the diſorder I am going to tell you of.

There was in the ſame Monaſtery a Nun, for whom the Father had ſhewed ſome kindneſs, and to whom he had made ſeveral Viſits upon that deſign: He had alſo received from her ſuch Favours, as were capable of engaging a man of the leaſt Fidelity: But the Luſtre of Virginia's Beauty, was too prevailing over his Heart; he inwardly diſengaged himſelf from that firſt commerce, and only afforded that poor Mayden, the outſide and appearance of a Real Love. She quickly perceived the change, and and ſaw clearly ſhe had a Rival, who ſhar'd with her in his offerings. She nevertheleſs diſſembled her ſpight and vexation; and ſeeing ſhe had to do with a Rival who ſurpaſſed her in all things, ſhe did not entertain the deſign of attacking her, but vowed the Ruine of him who deſpiſed her.

To bring this Enterprize of hers the more eaſily about, ſhe Studied the Houres and Moments that Virginia met with this Religious Lover; and as ſhe had learnt by experience, that he did not content himſelf with Words, nor light Favors, ſhe fancyed ſhe might reaſonably ſurprize them in certain Exerciſes, the Knowledg whereof rendred her Miſtriſs of the fate of her faithleſs Lover: She was a long while before ſhe could diſcover any thing ſtrong enough: She perceived indeed two or three times that poor Father warming his hand in Virginia's Boſome: She ſaw e'm Interchange ſome Kiſſes with an incredible fervency; but this paſſed for trifles in her mind; and as ſhe knew that theſe ſorts of Actions were in Cloyſters only reckoned for Pocadilloes, which Holy Waters waſhes clean; ſhe held her peace, waiting for a better Occaſion to ſpeak.

Ah I am in a terrible fright for poor Virginia!

Our Lovers not in the leaſt ſuſpecting the Ambuſhes that were laid for them, took no meaſures to avoid them: They met two or three times a Week, and wrote Letters when Prudence Obliged them to part for ſome time from one another. The Fathers Letters, whoſe expreſſions are tender and paſſionate made a perfect conqueſt over Virginia. He went to ſee her after eight dayes abſence, and obſerved he ſhould obtain from her what ſhe had alwayes refuſed him before. In the mean while her Rival was not Idle, for Correſponding with the Matron that was the Door-Keeper, ſhe had notice of the Jeſuites arrival, and not doubting but that after ſo long an interval, they would proceed to ſuch privacies, as ſhe could have wiſhed for her ſelf, ſhe went Tranſported with a Jealouſy into a Nook hard by the Parlour, where by the means of a little Chink ſhe had made, ſhe might diſcover to the very leaſt motions of thoſe who entertained one another there, and hear their moſt ſecret Converſations.

Now does my fear revive! Ah I have a ſpight againſt that Curious Creature for diſturbing ſo maliciouſly the Repoſe of two unhappy Lovers!

That the Depoſitions ſhe deſigned to make of what ſhe ſaw, might be the more Authentick, and received without difficulty, ſhe took another Nun with her, who might give the ſame Evidence. Being thus, both poſted in the place I mentioned, they perceived our two Lovers entertaining one another more by their looks and their ſighs, than by Words; they graſped one anothers hands, and with languiſhing looks ſpake ſome tender words, which departed more from their Hearts than from their Mouth. This Amorous Contemplation followed with opening a little four ſquare Caſement, which was toward the midſt of the grate, and which ſerved for pretty big Packquets to paſs through of ſuch as made preſents to the Nuns: Then it was that Virginia, received and gave a thouſand Kiſſes, but with ſuch great Tranſports, ſuch ſurprizing ſaillies, that Love it ſelf could not have augmented the ardour of them; Ah my dear Virginia, began my Paſſionate Prieſt, would you have us ſtop here? Alas! What ſmall returns do you make to thoſe who Love you, and how well do you practiſe the art of tormenting them? Alas! How, replyed our Veſtal, can I make you any other preſent after having given you my Heart? Ah! How Tyrannical is your Love! I know what you deſire, I know too that I have had the weakneſs to make you hope for it, but neither am I ignorant, that it is all my Bleſſing and all my Riches, and that I cannot grant it you but by reducing my ſelf to Extremity. Cannot we remain in the terms we are under, paſs together ſoft delightful moments, and enjoy Pleaſures ſo much the more perfect, as they are Pue and Innocent? If your Happineſs, as you ſay, does only depend on what I have moſt dear, you can be happy but once, and I alwayes miſerable, ſince it is a thing that cannot be recovered. Believe me, let us Love as a Brother Loves a Siſter, and let us allow this Love all the freedom that can be imagined, with exception to one alone.

And what anſwer did the Jeſuite make to all this?

During the Diſcourſe he ſaid not a Word, but leaning with his head on one of his hands, he look't with Eyes full of Languiſhment on her who ſpoke to him; after which, taking her by the hand through the grate, he told her after a touching manner! Muſt we then change our Method, and no longer Love as before? Can you conſent to this Virginia, for my part I can retrench nothing of my Love, and the Rules you have newly preſcribed to me, not to be received by a true Lover. He exaggerated to her afterward, with ſo much heat, the exceſs of his Flames, that he abſolutely diſconcerted her; and drew from her an Oral Promiſe, of granting him within ſome few days, what alone would render him perfectly happy. He then made her come nearer to the grate, and having made her mount upon a pretty high ſtool, he conjured her to allow him, at leaſt to ſatisfie his ſight, ſince he was barred all other Liberty; ſhe obeyed him after ſome reſiſtance, and ſuffered him to ſee and grope the parts conſecrated to Chaſtity, and Continency. She for her part would alſo needs ſatisfie her eyes with the like Curioſity, and the Jeſuite who was not inſenſible, eaſily found the means for her ſo doing, ſhe obtained from him what ſhe deſired with more eaſineſs than ſhe granted his requeſt. Then was the fatal moments of 'em both, and what our Spyes deſired: They contemplated with an extraordinary ſatisfaction, the fine parts of their Companions Body, which the Jeſuite laid to view, and felt and groped with tranſports of an enchanted Lover: Sometimes they Admired one part, and ſometimes another, according as the Officious Father turned and changed the ſcituation of his Miſtriſs; ſo that when he conſidered the fore part, he expoſed her Breech to the light, becauſe her Petticoats all round were lifted & tuckt up above her middle.

Methinks I am preſent at this ſpectacle, ſo naturally doſt thou tell the Story!

At length they terminated their wantonings, and our two Siſters retired with a deſign to put a ſtop to theſe ill managed Amours, and to hinder the effect of Virginia's promiſe. By a particular happineſs for that Poor innocent Creature, the Nun, whom her Rival had aſſociated to her in the Conſideration of what had paſſed, had a very tender kindneſs for her, and endeavoured to find a byaſs for Ruining the Jeſuite, without injuring her ſhe loved; ſhe gave her to underſtand what ſhe knew of her interigues, aſſured her of doing nothing to her prejudice, provided ſhe would promiſe her to break intirely off with that Prieſt, and not have for the future the leaſt Communication with him. Virginia extreamly aſhamed at what ſhe heard, engaged her ſelf to all that was deſired, only earneſtly begs the Jeſuites Reputation may be ſaved, becauſe it was impoſſible to wound the one, without doing ſome damage to the other; ſhe proteſted ſhe would ſee him no more, and that the Letter ſhe was going to write to him never to return again, ſhould be the Laſt he ſhould receive from her. Theſe conditions were accepted by both, though with trouble; they embrace Virginia, of whom they were become Enamoured, and ſaid at parting, that they would ſupply the Fathers place, and enter into a ſtrict friendſhip with her.

She came off then at a pretty cheap Rate, I fancy ſhe owed this indulgence to her Beauty, and to her other qualities, which rendered her without doubt Amiable to her very Enemy?

We are not yet at the end of our Hiſtory. Virginia imediatly wrote a Letter to Father Raucourt, & therein acquainted him with all that had happened, and with the Conditions ſhe had bound her ſelf to, to ſave both her and his Honour; ſhe remonſtrated to him the danger he would expoſe himſelf to, if he came to ſee her again; and lett him alſo know, that it was impoſſible ſhe could receive any of his Letters, unleſs he made uſe of a particular trick, to avoid their being ſurprized; ſhe ended with proteſtations of a conſtant Love and proof againſt all the moſt ſecret attacks of Jealouſy, and made him hope, that time would diſſipate that ſtorm, which threatned them. I do not ſay with what ſurprize this Father received and read this Letter, which ſtruck him, as it were, with a Thunder-Bolt, he ſaw it was not convenient to make any Anſwer to it, and that he muſt be forc'd to buckle to an an unhappy Accident, which oppoſed his good Fortune, in the very moment he was ready to enjoy it.

Three Weeks was already paſs'd of this Widdow-hood, when Virginia growing weary of that ſolitary Life, found by a marvellous piece of cunning, the means of hearing from her Lover, and letting him hear from her: She pretended to have forgotten to ſend Father Raucourt a ſquare Bonnet, which he had given her to make in the time of their late Familiarities. Her Rival told her, that ſhe needed but to give it to her, and that ſhe would have it delivered to her by a Touriere. This was done accordingly, the meſſenger had notice after what manner ſhe was to ſpeak to him; ſhe acquitted her ſelf punctually of her Commiſſion, and the Jeſuite after he had received the Bonnet, he deſired her to wait a moment in the Church, that he might have time to think of what he ſaw. After ſome ſmall reflection, he ſuſpected the ſtratagem, ript open the Bonnet in a certain place, and there found Virginia's Letter: Without examining it much, he made a ſpeedy anſwer to it, which he put in the ſame place, and clos'd it up the beſt he could, with two or three ſtitches of a needle: he came again to the Touriere, whom he deſired to carry back the Bonnet, that it might be mended, becauſe that it was much too narrow for him; that he had tryed it upon ſeveral other of the Convent, that he might exempt the Perſon from the trouble ſhe might have in reforming it, but that there was not a Father it fitted; that for the reſt he was obliged to her for the Patience ſhe had had to wait ſo long. The good Siſter made anſwer by her Bows to the Fathers Civilityes, and carryed back the four ſquar'd Bonnet to the Monaſtery, deliver'd it by order of her, who ſent her into the hands of Virginia, who was overjoyed to hear there the news of him ſhe loved, and for that her Artifice had had ſuch good ſucceſs.

It muſt be confeſſed that Love is full of Invention.

This Commerce laſted for above a Month, there was ſtill ſomthing to be altered and mended in this Venerable Bonnet; once in three days it was to be carryed to the Colledge and back again to the Monastery. Yet no body imagin'd that there was any Myſtery in ſuch a thing as that; no notice was taken of it; and they might ſtill have made uſe of this Poſtilion, had it not been for this accident which ſpoiled all.

Oh Lord, I fancy the whole Plot was diſcovered by the Touriere.

No, thou art miſtaken. It happened that on a faſt day, that the Porter of the Jeſuites was out of humour, perhaps for that he had not ſtuffed his Gutts, at his uſual Rate: The Touriere who had an infinite number of Commiſſions, and amongſt others that of the Bonnet, rang twice or thrice at the Colledg Gate, for to diſcharge her ſelf as ſoon as poſſible of her Meſſage. This good Fryer went out of the Garden he was in, and being come almoſt out of Breath; thinking it was the Biſhop or Arch-Biſhop, or ſome other Grandee, who had rung after ſo Commanding a manner, was much ſurprized at the ſight of the poor Siſter; ſhe had nothing elſe to ſay to him, than to deliver the four ſquare Bonnet into the hands of Father De Raucourt. This pettiſh man being vex'd at ſo many troubleſome viſits, upon ſo ſmall a matter, fell into a Paſſion, and ſaid; That Bonnet walked very often, and that he would put it into the hands of a man who ſhould make it withdraw for a while. The Touriere excuſing her ſelf as well as ſhe could, away ſhe went, and the Rector waiting for a Companion in the Porters Lodge to go out together, having heard the Dialogue, called the Brother, and would needs know the ſubject of the diſpute, and why he treated ſo rudely the Perſons who had buſineſs with thoſe of the Colledg. This man, ſeeing himſelf ſchool'd by his Superior, told him all he thought of this Bonnet; told him that it had already jogg'd & jaunted above 20. times between the Colledge and the Monaſtery: that there muſt without doubt be ſome hidden deſign in this matter; and that if His Reverence was ſo pleaſed, he would ſearch the Cap which he ſaid was counter-band; which he did at that ſame inſtant, and with one touch with his Ciſſars he brought to light the Fifteenth Infant of the ſquare Bonnet, which came in a direct Line from Siſter Virginia.

Oh Lord! how difficult a matter it is to ſave ones ſelf, when purſued by an ill Deſtiny, and that it has ſworn ones ruine. What happened of all this buſineſs?

Good Lord! It was for her alone that I was in fear, but tell me how this came to the knowledge of the Prioreſs?

I ſhould be too tedious in entertaining thee with one and the ſame thing; In the firſt Converſation after my retreat, I will tell thee more upon this Subject; I will ſhew thee two Infants of the four ſquar'd Bonnet, and will acquaint thee with the Fate of their Father and Mother. Think only at preſent, my Deareſt, that I am going to ſpend eight or ten dayes after a very doleful manner, ſince I ſhall be barred having the leaſt conference with thee; I am going to write to my three honeſt Friends that they may Viſit thee during that time: There is an Abbot, a Fryer, and a Capuchine.

What a mixture! and what wouldeſt thou have me do with all thoſe people whom I know not?

Thou needeſt only be Obedient, they will teach thee ſufficiently what ſhall be thy Duty, for the ſatisfying and contenting them. Here, take this Book I lend thee, make a good uſe of it, it will inſtruct thee with many things, and will give thy mind all the quiet thou canſt wiſh for. Kiſs me my poor Child, Kiſs me for all the time I am to be abſent. I ſhould paſs my retreat after a very pleaſant rate, If my Derectour was as Amiable and as Docible as thou art. Adieu. My heart, Dreſs thee, and be ſure that thou keepeſt all our amorours matters ſecret, and prepare thy ſelf to give me an account of all thy Divertiſements when my Exerciſes are expired.

Ah how Grateful and Pleaſant is the Beauty of this Day! It Revives all my Spirits. Let us both retire into that Alley, that ſo we may get rid of the Company of others.

We cannot find a more convenient place in all the Garden for our Walk, for the Trees which environ us, give us as much ſhade as is neceſſary, to hinder our being expos'd to the heat of the Sun.

True; but it is to be feared that my Lady Abbeſs will come to recreate her ſelf here, for this is the place ſhe moſt commonly chooſes to take the Air in after meals.

Be not you afraid of her coming to diſturb us here, ſhe is indiſpos'd at preſent, and if thou kneweſt but the cauſe of her indiſpoſition, thou wouldeſt laugh heartily.

Why ſhe was well enough yeſterday?

Shee was ſo, the Diſaſter only befel her this night, and thou muſt needs have ſlept very ſoundly, if thou didſt not perceive that, by her ſhrikes and bawlings out, ſhe frighted and alarum'd all the Dormitory. I intended to have made it part of our Diverſion when I came unto thee this morning; but inſenſibly our Converſation deviated upon other ſubjects.

You know that one of my Ladyes Principal Pleaſures conſiſts in nouriſhing all ſorts of Animals, and that ſhe does not content her ſelf with enjoying an infinite number of Birds, ſhe has likewiſe rendered tame & Domeſtick, even Tortoiſes and Fiſh. As ſhe makes no ſecret of this folly, and that ſhe calls this Amuſement, The charms of a Solitary Life; they all endeavour to Contribute to her Divertizement, by making her preſents ſometimes of one Creature, ſometimes of another. The Abbot of St. Vallery having heard that she had rendred, (as he had been given to underſtand) even Carps and Pikes, tame and familiar; he ſent her four days ago two live Mackerells, two Sea Crabs, likewiſe living. After having caus'd the wings of thoſe Demy-Ducks to be cut, ſhe put them into the Pond, reſolved to make it her whole buſineſs to look after the Craw-Fiſh; for which reaſon ſhe caus'd a little Trough to be brought into her Chamber, which ſhe had filled with water, and where ſhe put thoſe Lobſters, (ſo are thoſe Animals called). It is hardly to be expreſſed what pains ſhe took for their preſervation, even to the caſting them Sweet-meats and Sugarplums; in ſhort, ſhe would only feed 'em with the moſt delicate meats and food.

Thoſe ſort of paſtimes are innocent and excuſable in youth.

Yeſterday Evening, by ill luck, Siſter Olinda, who had order to change the water every day in the Trough for the refreſhment of the Fiſh, forgot to do it, which was the cauſe of all this diſorder. You muſt know that the laſt night having been very hot, one of theſe Lobſters, finding himſelf incommoded by the heat it felt, went out of the Trough, and trail'd along the Chamber, untill that ſeeing it ſelf without eaſe, it ſought after the water it had left, as its moſt Natural Element. But as it was much more eaſy for it to deſcend than to mount, it was conſtrain'd to have recourſe to the water of my Ladyes Chamber-Pot, where without examining whether it was freſh or ſalt it poſted it ſelf. Some time after our Abbeſs had occaſion to piſs, and half aſleep, and without going out of the Bed, ſhe took her Urinal; but alas! ſhe had like to have been frighted to death, this Crah-Fiſh finding it ſelf watered with ſomething too warm a ſhower, lanched forth towards the place from whence it ſeem'd to come, and ſeiz'd it ſo hard with one of its paws, that take my word it has left marks there for above this week.

Ha, ha, ha, This, this indeed is a pleaſant Adventure!

At the very ſame moment ſhe gave a skrich that awakened all her neighbours, flung the Looking-glaſs upon the floor, and geting up in a terrible fright, called people to her help. In the mean while this Animall, that had never met with ſo delicate and ſo reliſhing a bit, let not go its hold. The Mother Aſſiſtant, and Siſter Cornelia, were the ſooneſt up; Cornelia had much ado to forbear laughing at the ſight of ſuch a ſcene, but check'd her ſelf however the beſt ſhe was able. But the Mother Aſſiſtant being dim-ſighted, put on her Spectacles to ſee what was the matter, and peering too nigh, the Crab caught hold of her noſe with the other Claw; this added to Cornelias's Diverſion, who was forced to cut off the Claws of that Sacrilegious Creature, which till then did not abandon its prey. The Mother Aſſiſt • nt withdrew to her own Room, very much concerned at the outrage done to her Reverend Noſe; and Siſter Cornelia, who is my Lady Abbeſs's Confident, ſpent the reſt of the Night with her to comfort her in this diſtreſs. This is the cauſe of our Abbeſſes indiſpoſition, which will apparently hinder her from interrupting our conferences.

Ah Lord! I ſhould not dare to appear if ſuch an accident had happened to me, and that it was come to other peoples knowledg.

Truly a mighty buſineſs to be aſhamed of, ſhe let nothing be ſeen but what ſhe had often ſhown to others, and the Knights of the Order have plac'd their hands ſeveral times where the Crab placed his paw.

But which of all her Knights is her greateſt Darling.

I know not well which is, but this I know that a Jeſuite viſits her often, and that he has had privacies with her, that give us to underſtand he is one of the Blew-Ribbons. I perceived her one day with him in a very ſervent Communication; & at another time that she went out with the ſame Perſon, I found in the Parlour ſhe went out of, a Napkin wet in certain places with a certain viſcous Liquor; ſhe had let it fall neer the window; I do not ſpeak of this Rencounter, I only obſerved that the loſs made her ſomewhat uneaſy.

What needed ſhee to fear, the Biſhop on whom ſhe depends, is wholly at her Diſcretion, in the viſit he has made of this Monaſtery, he had ordered nothing but what ſhe had before preſcribed to him.

Right, Shee is Miſtreſs of all, and the Directours and Confeſſors are only received and changed by her Order.

Ah! I could wiſh with all my heart, that our Common Confeſſor whom we have at preſent, did but diſpleaſe her, as much as he does me; what ſayeſt thou to it?

The truth, is he is very auſtere, and is capable of putting thoſe to a great deal of trouble who knew not how to behave themſelves; but to ſuch as you and I, it ought to be indifferent to us whether it be he, or a leſs rigorous Perſon who hears us.

For my part, I cannot confeſs the leaſt tyny ſin, but that he falls into a Paſſion. For a thought I accuſed my ſelf of, he ordered me terrible Mortifications and Penances, and will make me faſt two days for the leaſt motion of the Fleſh that I ſhall confeſs to him. Beſides, I know not what moſt commonly to Entertain him with, for fear of telling him ſomething that ſhould diſpleaſe him. And I cannot conceive what courſe thou takeſt, thou who keepeſt him ſo long?

But what doſt thou ſay to him then, for only having broke ſilence, or droll'd upon a Perſon of the Community, (which is nothing) he will Schooll me for a quarter of an hour

All theſe faults being deſigned in particular, with their Circumſtances, of ſmall, become ſometimes more Conſiderable; and this is what renders thee ſubject to his Reprehenſion. But ſee the courſe I take by giving Ear to my laſt Confeſſion. After having moſt humbly begg'd his Bleſſing, with my eyes down, my hands lifted up, and my Body bending: I began in this manner.

My Father, I am the greatest Sinner on the Earth, and the weakeſt of all Creatures, I almost ever fall into the ſame faults.

I accuſe my ſelf of having troubled the Tranquility of my ſoul, with Univerſal Divagations, which have put my Breaſt in diſorder.

Of not having had ſufficient Recollection of mind, and of having ſpent too much time in external Occupations.

Of having dwelt too long upon the Opperations of the underſtanding, ſpending therein the moſt of my Prayers to the prejudice of my will, which remain'd by that means dry and barren.

The truth is, that I ſhould be very much puzzled, were I to order Penances to Sins ſo ingeniouſly laid open; and yet this is the only way to deceive the Curioſity of young Directours, and avoid the Reprimands of the Old.

The Latter are commonly the leaſt tractable; for I have ſeen but few Faſts, ſince I have been in the Society, but what have been pretty indulgent.

The truth is, that they have not all the ſame rigours, Witneſs him who Imprinted Devotion ſo deep in the Soul of two of our Siſters, that they found themſelves very much incommoded Nine Months afterwards.

This Sailly was not unpleaſant, and very capable of Exciting the heat of a Penitent to the repentance of ſuch a fault.

What wouldſt thou have, they are men as well as others: and I have heard one of my friends ſay, who was in thoſe ſort of Employments, that often a Confeſſor would not expoſe himſelf ſo much by going to a Bawdy-Houſe, were it not for what the devout whiſper in his Ear.

Alas my Child! Knoweſt thou what thou askeſt? if a Devout Woman affords a little pleaſure to a Confeſſor by the ingenious account ſhe gives of her weakneſſes, there are a thouſand who weary them by their repetitions, who tire them out with their ſcruples; and when they would with more eaſe free themſelves out of an Abbyſs than from their doubts. Siſter Doſithea has for above three years almoſt, ſolely taken up the Common Directour of the Houſe by her Queſtions. It was to no purpoſe for him to repreſent to her, that thoſe curious Niceties wherewith ſhe tortured her Conſcience, never thinking ſhe had taken care enough to examine her ſelf, were not only uſeleſs but likewiſe vicious and contrary to perfection; he could do no good with her, and was Conſtrain'd to abandon her to her ſelf, and leave her in her errour.

Methinks however, that ſhe is at preſent more reaſonable; and I remember that once we were oblidged to lye both together, while that our Dormitory was ſetting up; ſhe kept me in diſcourſe, but in ſuch diſcourſe as was not only far from any ſcruple, but likewiſe which I found at that time ſomewhat too free and libertine. Beſides a thouſand wantonings to which ſhe excited me, by the Relation of an hundred Stories, the moſt Smutty and Laſcivious imaginable.

I perceive thou knoweſt not how ſhe was freed out of the errour Superſtition had plung'd her ſo deep in: her Confeſſor had no ſhare in her delivery; we may ſay that it is Devotion it ſelf that has produced this change and that of a Maiden extreamly Scrupulous, it has made a Religious altogether reaſonable. I am content to tell all I know of this matter, from her own mouth.

I do not well conceive this, for to ſay that Devotion can rid a perſon of her Scruples, is to ſay, that a blind man is capable of freeing another from a Precipice.

Hear me but, and thou wilt find I have urg'd nothing but what is true. Siſter Doſithea as you may perceive by her eyes, is naturally of the moſt tendereſt amorous Complexion imaginable; this poor Creature at her entrance into Religion, fell into the hands of an old Director ſuperlatively ignorant, and ſo much the more an Enemy of Nature, as that his Age rendred him uncapable of all the pleaſures it propoſes. Thus finding that the inclination of his Penitent was carnally given, and that the failing, and weakneſſes ſhe accuſed herſelf of every day, were a certain ſign of it; He thought it was his duty to reform that Nature which he called Corrupted, and that it was allowed him to erect himſelf into a ſecond Rapairer. To bring this deſign about, he caſt into her mind all the Seeds of Scruples, of doubts, of torments, and pains of Conſcience he could bethink himſelf of. He did it with ſo much the more ſucceſs, as that he found a diſpoſition in her to 'em, and that the ingenuous Confeſſions he had often heard from this innocent Creature, made him know the extream tenderneſs ſhe had in what concerned her Salvation.

Whereupon he gave her a deſcription of the way to Heaven in ſuch courſe colours, that they would have been capable of diſcouraging and diſguſting from the perſuit of it, a Perſon leſs zealous, and leſs fervent than Siſter Doſithea. He only ſpoke to her of the Deſtruction of that Body, which oppoſed it ſelf to the enjoyment of the Spirit, and the horrible penances wherewith he loaded her 〈…〉 ſaid, means abſolutely neceſſa •• 〈…〉 which it was impoſſible for 〈…〉 arrive at that Celeſtiall Jeruſa ••• 〈…〉

〈…〉 not being capable to defend 〈…〉 againſt theſe arguments, ſuffer'd 〈…〉 to be led away blindly by the 〈…〉 •• eet Devotion, with which ſhe was 〈◊〉 •• ated: The plain practice of God's ••• andments, was no longer thought 〈…〉 to be of any great conſideration 〈…〉 him, they were to be accompa •• 〈…〉 with works of ſupererrogation, and 〈…〉 • ith all this Clutter, ſhe was ſtill 〈…〉 • ontinual fear of the paines of a •• 〈…〉 World, with which ſhe was ſo 〈…〉 • reatned. As it is impoſſible here 〈…〉 deſtroy in us what we call Con •• 〈…〉 , ſhe was never in peace with 〈…〉 it was a perpetual War which 〈…〉 prudently made upon her poor 〈…〉 and the ſierce Conflicts ſhe in •• 〈…〉 upon it, were rarely followed with 〈…〉 •• rt Ceſſation.

〈…〉 Alas! poor Creature, I pitty 〈…〉 how ſtrangely ſhould. I have 〈…〉 •• ved with Compaſſion, had I ſeen 〈…〉 • hat errour.

〈…〉 As her amourous diſpoſition cau •• ••• er, her greateſt failings, She neglected nothing of all that could extinguiſh her moſt innocent flames, faſtings, hair ſhifts, and all other rigorous uſage were put in practice, and the change of a more reaſonable Directour than her former, brought not the leaſt Diminution to her folly. She was four whole years in this condition, and would have remained ſo in it ſtill, had not a fit of Devotion forced her out of it. Amongſt the Counſels ſhe had received from her ancient Directour, ſhe practiſed one with an unequall'd regularity; which was, to have recourſe to a Picture of St. Alexis, the Mirrour of Chaſtity, which was in her Oratory, and to proſtrate her ſelf there,, when ſhe ſaw her ſelf preſſed by temptations, or that ſhe felt in her thoſe movements which ſhe accuſed her ſelf ſo often of. Thus one day that ſhe found her ſelf more moved than uſual, and that her nature attacked her brisker than was cuſtomary, ſhe had recourſe to her Saint; repreſented to him with tears in her eyes, her face upon the floor, and her heart lifted up towards Heaven, the extreame danger ſhe found her ſelf in; related to him with a wonderful candour and ſimplicity, to how little purpoſe ſhe had defended her ſelf, and uſed all her efforts to repreſs the violent tranſports ſhe was ſeized with.

She accompanyed her prayers with Penance and Diſcipline, which ſhe inflicted in the preſence of this welbeloved Pilgrim. But as they tell of him that he was not in the leaſt toucht with the Beauty of his Wife on the firſt Night of his Wedding, but abandoned her on the Contrary, the beautiful Body of this innocent Creature expoſed naked before him, made no impreſſion upon his Spirit, and the laſhes ſhe ſo briskly ſwinged her ſelf with did not move him in any wiſe to compaſſion. After having clawed her ſelf off in this manner, ſhe recommended her ſelf anew to this good Roman, and withdrew as one victorious, to go paſs her time in Peace in leſs fatiguing exerciſes.

Good God! What a busſle and hurry does Superſtition make in the ſoul when it has once got poſſeſſion of it!

Doſithea was hardly got out of her Room, than that ſhe found her body all of a ſire, and her mind inclined to the purſuit of a pleaſure which ſhe was not yet acquainted with. An extraordinary tickling animated all her ſences, and her imagination filling it ſelf with a a thouſand laſcivious Ideas left this Poor Religious half vanquiſhed. In this pittious condition ſhe returned to her Interceſſour, redoubled her prayers, and conjured him by all that Devotion can have moſt ſenſible to grant her the gift of Continency; her ſervency did not ſtop there, ſhe took Inſtruments of penance in hand, and made uſe of 'em for a quarter of an hour together, with the maddeſt and moſt indiſcreet zeale imaginable.

Well but this gave her ſome eaſe, did it not?

Alas! Far from that, ſhe retired from her Oratory more and more tranſported with Love than before. The Bell rung to Veſpers much ado had ſhe to aſſiſt at 'em all the while. Sparkes of fire flew out at her eyes, and without knowing what ſhe fuffered, I admired her inſtability, and at her being in ſo continual a motion.

But from whence proceeded this?

This was occaſioned by the extream heat ſhe felt over all her Body, and eſpecially in thoſe parts where ſhe had diſciplined her ſelf; for you muſt know theſe ſorts of exerciſes were ſo far from extinguiſhing the flames wherewith ſhe was conſumed, that on the contrary they had more and more augmented them, and had reduced that poor creature into ſuch a condition, as that ſhe was hardly any longer able to bear with it. This is eaſy to conceive, foraſmuch as the laſhes ſhe had clawed her backſide with, had excited heat in all the Neighbourhood, had brought thither the pureſt and moſt ſubtile ſpirits of the blood, which to find an Iſſue conformable to their nature all of fire, did prick ſo notably the parts where they were aſſembled, as if it were to make a paſſage.

Did the conflict laſt long?

It began and ended in a day; for as ſoon as Veſpers were over, Doſithea, as if ſhe could not directly have addreſſed her ſelf to God, went to proſtrate her ſelf again before her Oratory, Prayed, Wept, Groaned, but all to no purpoſe. She found her ſelf more preſſed than ever, and to inſult a-new this obſtinate Nature, ſhe took her whip in hand, and lifting up her Peticoats and ſmock to her Navel, and tying them up with a girdle, ſhe outraged her buttocks with extraordinary violence, and that part which put her to ſo much pain being all uncovered. This raging having laſted for ſome time, her ſtrength fail'd her for that cruel exerciſe, nay 〈…〉 not enough left to untie her clothes, 〈…〉 expoſed her half naked, ſhe leane 〈…〉 her head upon the Bed, and 〈…〉 reflection upon the Condition of 〈…〉 kind which ſhe called Unhappy, 〈…〉 they were born with motions 〈…〉 condemned, tho' it was almoſt in 〈…〉 ble to bridle them. She fell into 〈…〉 of a trance, but it was an amou •• 〈…〉 trance cauſed by the fury of the paſſ ••• and which made that poor young 〈…〉 enjoy ſuch a delight as raviſh'd he 〈…〉 the very Heavens. In that moment 〈…〉 ture uniting all its forces, and Virgi ••• which tell then had been a Captive, d ••• vered it ſelf without any help with an •• petuoſity, in leaving there the Keeper 〈…〉 tended upon the floor for an evid ••• token of her Defeat.

O Lord! Oh Lord! I wiſh I 〈…〉 been by!

Alas! What pleaſure could 〈…〉 have been to thee? Thou wouldſt 〈…〉 ſeen that innocent Creature ſighing 〈…〉 panting, which ſhe knew not the cauſe 〈…〉 Thou wouldeſt have ſeen her in an ••• tacy, her eyes half dying without Viv •• city or Vigour, yeilding to the Laws 〈◊〉 meer Nature, & loſe maugre all her 〈◊〉 that Treaſure, the keeping whereof had put her to ſo much pain.

Well this is what I ſhould have taken delight in, to view her thus all naked, and to obſerve curiouſly all the tranſports, that Love would have cauſed in her at the moment ſhe was overcome.

As ſoon as Doſithea was recovered from this Rapture, her mind which was before clouded and buried in thick darkneſs, found it ſelf unvailed at the very inſtant of all its obſcurity: Her eyes were opened, and reflecting upon what ſhe had done, and upon the little virtue of her Saint, whom ſhe had ſo much invoked, ſhe knew ſhe had been in an errour, and thus raiſed her ſelf by her own ſtrength through a ſurprizing Metamorphoſis, above all things which ſhe durſt not before look upon, and had nothing but a contempt for what before ſhe had the greateſt Veneration.

That is to ſay, that of Scrupulous, ſhe became Indevout, and Irreligious, and that ſhe made no more Offerings to all the little Saints ſhe adored before.

Thou takeſt things in a wrong ſence; we may rid our ſelves of Superſtition without falling into Impiety; which was what Doſithea did; ſhe had learnt by experience, that it was to the Soveraign Phyſitian, that recourſe is to be had to in one's weakneſſes and failings, that temptations were not in the power of the faithful, and that in the moſt ſubmiſſive Soul, there often aroſe involuntary thoughts and motions, which however could not occaſion any fault or imperfection. Thou ſeeſt how that I told thee nothing but what is true, when I urg'd that it was Devotion that freed her from her ſcruples.

Almoſt the ſame thing happened to an Italian Nun, Who after having proſtrated her ſelf very often before the figure of a Child newly born, which ſhe called her little Jeſus, and had conjured it ſeveral times to grant her the ſame thing by tender words which ſhe uttered with an extraordinary affection. Dolce Signore Mio Gjeſu, fatte mi la gratia, ſeeing that all her prayers were without effect, ſhe fancied that the Infancy of him ſhe invoked, was the cauſe thereof, and that ſhe ſhould find better redreſs in addreſſing her ſelf to the Image of the eternal Father, which repreſented him in a more advanced age: She went thereupon again to her little Lord, whom ſhe upbraided with his little vertue, proteſting that ſhe would never amuſe her ſelf with him, nor any little Child of his ſort; and left him in that manner applying to him theſe words of the Proverb. Chi S'impaccia con Fanciulli, con Fanciulli ſi ritrova. Do but reflect a little how far ſuperſtition does ſometimes go, & to what an extremity of folly ignorance does ſometimes lead us.

The truth is that theſe examples are a ſenſible proof of what you now ſay, and that the ſimplicity of this Nun is unparellel'd: The Italian Women however doe not paſs for fools, they are ſaid to have an infinite deal of Wit, and that few things are capable of puzling them, and eſcaping their underſtanding.

That is true, generally ſpeaking, but there are ever ſome who are not ſo ſharp, and ſo quick witted as the others. Beſides, it is not alwaies a ſign of ſtupidity to have doubts and ſcruples, for you muſt know, my Dear Agnes, that (unleſs it be things of Religion) there is nothing certain or ſure in this World, there is no ſide but may be maintained, we have commonly only falſe and confuſed Notions of thoſe things, which we think we know moſt perfectly. Truth is yet more unknown, and all the pain • and artifices of men, who apply themſelves to the ſearch of it, have not yet been able to render it ſenſible to us, tho they have often fancied they had found it out.

But how muſt we then manage our mind in ſo univerſal an Ignorance?

You muſt my Child, to prevent the being miſtaken and abuſed, Conſider things from their Riſe, view them in their pure naturals, and afterwards judge of them conformably to what we ſee thereof. You muſt above all avoid ſuffering your Reaſon to be prepoſſeſſed and prejudiced, neither muſt ye ſuffer it to be beſieged by the ſentiments of others, which commonly are only Opinions. And you muſt be cautious, how you ſuffer your ſelf to be taken by the eyes, and by the ears, that is to ſay, by a thouſand exteriour things, which are often made uſe of for the ſeducing our ſences, but ſtill preſerve our mind free and diſengaged, from the ſilly movings, and childiſh Maximes, with which the Vulgar is infatuated, who like Brute animals run after all that is 〈◊〉 'em, provided it be gilded with ſome fine appearance.

I underſtand all this well enough, and I fancy too that thy Argument might be puſhed on much farther, and comprehend therein many things which thou exempteſt from it. I muſt own there is a great deal of pleaſure in hearing thy diſcourſe, and though thou were't not ſo young, and ſo lovely as thou really art, thy Witt alone would render thee amiable. Priddee buſs me once.

With all my heart, My Dear Creature, I am overjoyed with pleaſing thee in any thing, and with having found in thee ſo much diſpoſition to receive the inſtructions which thou wanteſt. When our minds are cleared of thoſe clouds of Darkneſs, and freed from all manner of diſquiet, there is not a moment in our whole lives, but that affords us ſome pleaſures, and which may procure to us recreation from the very torments and ſcruples of others. But let us lay aſide all this morality, wherein I have inſenſibly engaged my ſelf. Kiſs me my little Mignion, I love thee more than my own life.

And what reaſon have we to fear? Let us go into that Arbour and there no body can ſee us. But I am not yet ſatisfied, thy kiſſes have nothing that's common, give me one after the Florentine way?

I believe thou art mad? Does the World kiſs after the ſame manner? What doſt thou mean by kiſſing after the Florentime way?

Come and Ile teach it thee.

Oh! Lord thou ſets me all of a Fire! Ah what a Laſcivious way haſt thou with thee! Prethee ſtand off; Ah how thou huggeſt me, thou devoureſt me!

I muſt pay and reward my ſelf for the Leſſons that I give thee. Now this is the way that perſons uſe in kiſſing, who really Love one another, by Amourouſly Lanching the tongue between the Lips of the Object one Adores; for my part I find nothing more ſweet, and more delicious, when we acquit our ſelves of it in due manner, and I never practice it without being Raviſht into an Extaſy, and without feeling through all my Body an extraordinary Titilation, and a certain I know not what, that I cannot expreſs to thee, than by telling thee, that it is a ſecret Pleaſure which ſpreads it ſelf Univerſally into all the moſt ſecret parts of my ſelf, which penetrates into the very bottom of my Heart, and which I have right to term, An Abridgment of Soveraign Voluptuouſneſs. But what not a word; what ſence doth it raiſe in thee?

Did I not tell it thee ſufficiently, when I let thee know that thou putteſt me all in a flame; but whence comes it that thou calleſt theſe ſort of kiſſes a kiſs after the Florentine mode?

The reaſon is, that amongſt all the Italians, the Ladyes of Florence paſs for the moſt Amourous, and do generally Practiſe this kiſs after the manner thou haſt received it from me. They take a ſingular delight therein, and ſay they do it in imitation of the Dove, which is an innocent Bird; and that they find therein I know not what that's Laſcivious and Poignant, which they do not find and taſt in others. I am amaz'd that the Abbot and the Mendicant did not teach thee this during my retreat? for they have travelled Italy, and in all probability they have rendered themſelves knowing in all the moſt ſecret practices of Love, which are peculiar to thoſe of the Country.

Truly my mind was employed in ſomething elſe, than theſe ſimple trifles when they came to ſee me, for me to remember 'em at preſent. I know very well, that there is no ſort of Careſſes and Follies, but what their Amorous fury bethought it ſelf of; but indeed the Pleaſure I took therein was ſo Great, and the Raviſhment thoſe Tranſports cauſed in me ſo Exceſſive, that I had not ſufficient freedom of Judgement left to reflect thereon.

The Truth is, that the ſweet moments, wherein we enjoy that voluptuouſneſs, doe ſo poſſeſs us, that we are not capable of withdrawing our ſelves by any application of our memory, nor to make an Agenda at that inſtant of all that paſſes within our ſelves. Yet I do not doubt but the Abbot and the Mendicant have extended their Galantry ſo far; for beſides thy having a Divine mouth, they are perfectly informed of all the ſofteſt and moſt Engageing arts and ways of thoſe who know Paſſionately how to Love.

Alas! They know but too much of thoſe matters, for perſons conſecrated to the Altars and devoted to Continency.

This is pleaſant in you indeed, and thoſe who know thee not would think that thou ſpeakeſt ſeriouſly. But ſhall I tell thee my thought? I fancy that they cannot know too much, but that they might practiſe leſs? For certain it is; that having the direction of Souls, they ought to have a perfect knowledg of Good as well as Evil, for the making a juſt diſtinction, and for exhorting with the more Vehemence, to the Love and purſuit of the one, and Preaching to us with the like zeal the avoiding and the averſion of the other. But they do nothing leſs than this, and the ill Books they draw their lights from, Corrupt their VVills as well as Enlighten their Underſtandings?

I fancy thou miſtakeſt and abuſeſt the terms, and that thou doſt not call to mind, that amongſt the Learned there is no Books that of its nature bears the Title of forbidden, and that the uſe alone we make thereof, gives it the quality of good, bad, or indiffe, rent.

Good God! Thy talking at this rate, makes me think thou raveſt, and thou muſt agree with me, there are certain Books all whoſe parts are bad, and whoſe inſtructions are eſſentially oppoſite to good Morality and the practice of Vertue. What canſt thou ſay of the School of Ʋenus, and of that Infamous Phyloſophy, that has nothing but what's flat and inſipid, and all whoſe poor and ſilly Reaſonings can only perſwade low and vulgar Spirits, or only touch thoſe who are leaſt corrupted, or who of themſelves ſuffer themſelves to be led away to all manner of weakneſſes.

I own that that Book may be placed in the ranks of things uſeleſs, nay of thoſe that are forbidden; I wiſh I could recover again the time that I employed in reading it, and there was nothing in it that pleas'd me, nor but what I condemn'd. The Abbot who ſhew'd it me, gave me another which is almoſt upon the ſame matter, but which treats it and manages it with much more Wit and Ingenuity.

I know what Book thou meaneſt; it's as bad (as to manners) as the former, and though the purity of its Stile, and its eaſy Eloquence have ſomething agreable, this does not hinder it from being infinitely dangerous, ſince the Flame and the briskneſs which ſparkle there in many places, do only ſerve to make people ſwallow with the better guſt the venom wherewith it is filled, and inſinuate it inſenſibly into the hearts of thoſe that are the leaſt ſuſceptible; its Title is, The Academy of Ladyes: Or the Seven Satyrical Dialogues of Aloiſia. I have had it for above this Week in my hands, and he from whom I received it, explained to me the moſt difficult paſſages, and gave me a perfect underſtanding of all it has myſterious. Eſpecially he interpreted to me theſe words, which are in the Seventh Dialogue, Amori, vera Lux, and diſcovered to me the anagramatical ſence which they concealed, under the ſimple appearance of the inſcription of a Medal. I fancy it was of this Book, that thou hadſt a deſign to ſpeak?

Right, it was ſo. Lord, Lord, how ingenious it is in inventing new Pleaſures for a ſatiated and diſguſted mind! With what Points and with what Spurs does it revive that Luſt that is the moſt lulled aſleep, the moſt languiſhing, nay and that which is no longer able! What extravagant A ••• tites! What ſtrange Objects! VV •• unknown Meats does it Offer! B •• perceive I am not yet ſo knowing 〈◊〉 it as thou art.

Alas! my poor Child, the kn •• ledg thou aſpireſt to, cannot but 〈◊〉 prejudicial to thee? The Pleaſures 〈◊〉 propoſe to our ſelves, ought to be bo •• ded by the Laws, by Nature, and by P •• dence, and all the Maximes which t •• t Book is capable of inſtructing thee w ••• almoſt equally deviate from thoſe th •• e things. Take my word, all Extremities 〈◊〉 dangerous; and there is a certain M ••• way, which we cannot vary from without falling into the Precipice. I •• us Love, that is not prohibited; Seek •• ter Pleaſure, as long as it is Lawful; b •• let us ſhun and avoid, what can only i • ſpire Debauchery, and let us not ſuff •• our ſelves to be perſwaded by an El •• quence which only flatters us to our Ru • ine, and which only expreſſes it ſelf well to hurry us the more eaſily to miſchief.

Goodly, Goodly, VVith your fine Morals forſooth! I find you know how to Gild the Pill when you pleaſe! Not but that I yeild to your Reaſons, and blame all thoſe things which thou condemneſt, but I cannot forbear laughing to ſee thee Preach Reformation with ſo much heat, and that I hear thee ſpeaking to the dumb, and to the blind: ſuch as are our Siſters, who will receive no rules, but ſuch as they propoſe to themſelves.

You are in the right; and I own it is time ill beſtowed, to labour the ſuppreſſing of Vice, and the excelling of Virtue, in the Corruption of the Age we live in; the Diſeaſe is too great, end the Contagion too Univerſal to be remedyed by plain VVords, and to be cured by a Potion and Preparation that can only act upon the mind. This is not my deſign, in the leaſt, but I was only very willing to let thee know, that I do not approve of the Libertiniſme of thoſe Perſons, who never enjoy perfect Pleaſures, unleſs they go ſeek them in the leſſons of a Corrupted imagination, beyond the moſt inviolable bounds of Nature, and even into the moſt diſſolute Licentiouſneſs of paſs'd Fables.

I am no enemy to Sports, and Delights, nor am I wedded to that troubleſome Vertue which our Age is not capable of. I know the moſt Noble ſoul cannot be Miſtreſs of its paſſions, nor purged from other humane infirmities as long as it is wedded to our Body.

Ah I am pleas'd with this return! and this reaſonable indulgence may be perhaps allowed of. For what hurt can there be found in pleaſure when it is well regulated? Something of neceſſity muſt be allowed to the temperament of the Body, and comply with the weakneſs of our minds, ſince we receive them ſo as Nature gave us them, and that it lies not in our Power to pick call and chuſe 'em. We are not reſponſible for the freaks, fancies, propenſities and inclyations which it give us; if they are faults, 'tis it that is culpable and ought to be blamed. And men cannot be upbraided with the vices that are born with them, or which only proceed from their Birth.

Thou ſpeakeſt reaſon, thou Darling of my Heart, and I cannot expreſs to thee the joy I feel, when that thy VVords make me ſee the Progreſs that thou haſt made by my inſtructions. But let us no longer puzzle and weary our Brains, after the ſearch and ripping up of other Peoples Crimes, let us bear with what we cannot reform, let us not touch nor glance upon Evils, that would undoubtedly diſcover the inſufficiency of our remedies. Let us live for our ſelves, 〈◊〉 without making our ſelves ſick with 〈…〉 infirmities, let us Eſtabliſh in our 〈…〉 that Spiritual Peace and Tran ••••• y, which is the Principle of the joy 〈…〉 Beginning of the happyneſs which 〈…〉 reaſonably deſire.

For my part I am already in 〈◊〉 peaceable enjoyment of the repoſe, 〈…〉 the quiet of Spirit, to which I 〈◊〉 ſay I could only attain to by thy 〈…〉 . Theſe are Obligations which 〈…〉 never ſufficiently acknowledge; 〈…〉 new my Gratitude to that degree 〈…〉 lay in my power, ſince for all 〈…〉 thou haſt taken to free me out 〈…〉 Error I was in, thou muſt content 〈…〉 with the Affection I have ſworn 〈…〉 , and it muſt ſerve thee inſtead of 〈…〉 reward.

Alas! My dear Child, what 〈…〉 thou offer me more to my Satisfaction? I prefer thy Careſſes before all th •• Treaſures in the VVorld; one ſole K •••• thine Charms me, and puts me in •• ••• pture. But ſee, yonder is ſomeB •••• coming, let us part to hinder al •• •• icion they might have of our 〈…〉 and diſcourſe. Buſs me, my 〈…〉 Dove.

Ah thou Ravisheſt me with Delight! I am in a Tranſport! Ah 'tis too much for me to bear! Thou cauſeſt in me a Thouſand Pleaſures.

Well, this is ſufficient for the preſent. Farewell Angelica, 'tis Siſter Cornelia, ſhe's a coming.

I ſee her, 'tis without doubt to bring me ſome meſſage from my Lady Abbeſs. Adieu Agnes, Adieu my Heart, my Souls-Delight, my Love.