VENUS in the Cloister, OR THE NUN in her Smock.  
In Curious DIALOGUES, ADDRESSED To the Lady Abbess of Love's Paradise, By the Abbot Du Prat.  
Done out of French.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Rhodes, next Door to the Bear Tavern near Bride-Lane in Fleetstreet, 1683.   

TO MADAM D. L. R. Most Worthy Abbess of Love's Paradise.  
MADAM,  
AS it would be a difficult matter for me not to comply with all your desires, I did not at all pause upon the Requests I received from your Ladyship, for the reducing as soon as possible into writing, the secret Entertainments wherein your Society had so great a share. I engaged myself too solemnly in this Gallant Enterprise, for to decline now the going through with it, or to excuse my prosecuting this Work, upon the difficulty there is to give to the Voice and Action that Vivacity they were animated with. I know not if I shall have fully performed my Duty, and satisfied your expectations, the exercise of two or three mornings will discover to you the Resemblance or Imperfection of this Draught; and will let you know, that if I have not a great deal of Eloquence, I have at least memory enough, faithfully to relate the greatest part of things past. I have so proposed to myself your satisfaction in this Undertaking, that I have indifferently passed over all the reasons which seem to dissuade me from it; the fear only of its falling into any other hands than yours, has made me somewhat delay sending it to you, and I myself would have been the bearer, if my present affairs would have allowed me that satisfaction, rather than trust to the hazard of a Post or of a Messenger a Packet of this consequence. For in good earnest, if the secret conferences should happen to be made public, it would Occasion no small scandal both to me and your Ladyship; and if Actions which are not blamed, but because they are not known, should happen to become a new subject of Criticism, and furnish arms to all those who are willing to attack us; what a posture would our poor Nun be in, and with what Countenance can she appear, if she had the misfortune of being exposed in her Smock to the sight of all the curious? How much Scandal, Shame, and Disorder would this Occasion! All these considerations are strong, but you will be Obeyed, & you have termed sure & solid reasons by the name of light and timorous Reflections.  
Let what will happen, I wash my hands of all consequences; & to lay aside this serious humour, I may tell your Ladyship, that Sister Agnes has nothing to fear, though her ill Destiny should concern itself in the management of this business; for the Draught I have made of her in my Writings, has represented her in a very exact observation of all her Vows; for indeed, to begin with Poverty; can one be in a greater disengagement from the blessing of this World, than to strip and deprive ourselves of them, even to ones very Shift? Can we in our words or our actions show the Beauty of Nature with more Lustre, than by proposing to one's self for Rule, Nature altogether pure? in short, if one had a mind to make trial of her Obedience without exception, she would be found to have as much Docility as any one of your Novices.  
Thus you see Madam, you have a long Letter to a small Work, and a great door to a little House, but no matter: I chose rather to sin against the Rules, than to curb and constrain myself in my writing to your Ladyship. Impart to your and my most intimate Friend, what you think fitting they should know of this matter, and believe me to be without reserve.  
MADAM, Your Ladyship's most Obedient, and most Affectionate Servant, The Abbot du Prat.   

Venus in the Cloister, OR THE Nun in Her Smock.  
First Dialogue.  Sister Agnes, Sister Angelica. AGnes. 
Ah Lord, Ah Lord! Sister Angelica, pray come not in my Room, I am not visible at present: must you needs surprise People thus in this condition? I thought I had made the Door fast.  Angelica. 
Well, well, hist, hist, why are you thus Alaramed? 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. Sat thee down upon thy Bed in the same posture thou wast in: I'll go shut the Door.  Agnes. 
I assure you my dear Sister, that I should have died for shame, if any other than you had surprised 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.  Ang. 
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 Cloister at Thirteen: and I may say, that 〈◊〉 not yet by my ill conduct, 〈◊〉 any one's 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 procured me the affection of the most part; much above all, has assured me of that of our Abbess, which is of no small use to me upon occasion.  Agn. 
I know it, and have been often amazed, how you could so manage those who are of a contrary Party: It is undoubtedly requisite to be as well stocked with wit and learning, as you are to manage such like Persons. For my part, I have never been able to Bridle myself 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.  Ang. 
The truth is, that it is very 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 Cloisters, obliged those who are engaged in 'em, to divide themselves, and to do often out of prudence, what they cannot do out of inclination.  Agn. 
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 Victim of your Policy.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
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 nourished by fastings, and only covered 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.  Agn. 
I of an Amorous Nature, my Physiognomy 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.  Ang. 
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 persuade myself, all thy most careless actions have assured me of the contrary, And that I know not what, which I perceived through the Keyhole of the Door before I came into the Room, makes me know that thou art a dissembler.  Agn. 
Ah Lord! Ah Lord! I am undone!  Ang. 
Go thou silly Creature, what shouldst thou apprehend from me? prithee 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 practice, and this is called in Cloistral terms, The Amuzement of the Young, and the Passion of the Old.  Agn. 
But pray what did you see then?  Ang. 
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 hid nothing from me, and I must keep nothing secret from thee; Buss me my pretty heart; considering thy perverseness, a Discipline would be of good use to punish thee for the small returns thou makest to the kindness one shows thee. Good God, how soft and plump art thou! Ah! thou art of a sweet delicate shape? Let me—  Agn. 
Ah! For Heaven's sake let me alone! I cannot recollect myself from this surprise: but in good earnest, what did you see?  Ang. 
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 myself; 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 discovered, it is but what my Lady Abbess practices, as she herself says, in the most innocent diversions; It is but what the Prioress does not reject; but what the mistress 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 show of Sanctity, with which they know so well how to deck themselves upon occasion, has made thee think they live in their Bodies, 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 wouldst 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 thyself feltest the purest motions of it.  Agn. 
After so many words, I do not think I ought to doubt of your sincerity, wherefore I will not only tell you what you desire to know of me, but I shall even take a sensible pleasure in communicating to you my most secret thoughts and actions. It will be a general Confession which I knew you have no design to prevail of, but the imparting whereof to you, shall only serve to unite us to one another, with a more strict and indissoluble Bond.  Ang. 
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 disclosing of ones mind, in such like Occasions. Speak then: Prithee, My Dear, speak. I will sit down by thee upon thy Bed: 'Tis not necessary that thou dress thyself, 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 mere Kisses Animate and Transport Me to such a Pitch?  Agn. 
It is indeed a very difficult matter to contain one's Self within the bounds of one's Duty; when We in the least slacken the Reins to that Passion; Would you believe it Angelica? These little wanton, which in the bottom are nothing, have had a wonderful effect upon me? Ah, Ah, Ah, let Me breathe a little: Methinks my heart is too much penned 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 mere Kisses cause so much disorder in a Soul? The truth is, you are very dextrous in your Carresses, and all your ways 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 Confessor upon those sort of Matters, I die 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 Sallies, and the least Attacks of a corrupted Nature.  Ang. 
This is what I watched 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 Cursed and Ignorant Director: For my part, I will tell thee that I have been taught by a Learned Man, with what air I am to comport myself, for the living happy all my life long; yet without doing any thing that might distaste and scandalise the sight of a regular Society, or that was directly contrary to the Commands of God.  Agn. 
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 myself to be persuaded 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 myself 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 fettled, 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.  Ang. 
Dear Child, thou wilt be surprised 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 Dogmatise 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 extreme Ignorance. But I must likewise own to thee, that I ought to be accused 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.  Agn. 
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 Scholar more attentive, than I shall be to all your Discourses.  Ang. 
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 practice 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 horror, are received and approved of by our Neighbours; I will tell thee in few words, what a Reverend Father Jesuit, 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 'em capable of the present Speculations.  
As all your happiness, my dear Angelica (so spoke he to me) depends on the perfect knowledge 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 Bodies; 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 Bodies 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 itself 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 groan of Conscience, which often bring a poor Soul into despair; and thence it is, that this yoke, which ought to be light and easy 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 ourselves to the Body of the Tree, without troubling ourselves to embrace its sprouts or its branches. We must content ourselves with Obeying the Precepts of the Sovereign 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, embellish her solitary way of Life, and by giving a cheerful Air to all her Actions, become tame, grow familiar, and be acquainted with the World: she may, continued he, dispense herself, 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 possessed 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, dispense yourself from seemingly affording a Compliance to the Laws, Customs & Manners, which you subjected yourself 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 mortify her Body.  Agn. 
Ah! how rejoiced am I to hear thee; the extreme 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?  Ang. 
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 Deserts been populated and Cloisters built; the Zeal of one Person alone inflamed 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 Bias in our Reasonings, and not imagine that this primitive Innocence, and this fine Character of Devotion did long preserve itself, 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 increase 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 public Interest. It would willingly have got entirely rid of these Bloodsuckers, 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 Commonwealth.  
Thus Policy has looked upon all those Houses as Common places where it might discharge itself 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?  Agn. 
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?  Ang. 
Why this is the Reason. It considers all Religious Orders, as Friars, Nuns, and the Rest, as members retrenched from its Body, and as parts separated, whose life does not lean to it particularly for any thing beneficial, but much rather damageable to the public. And as it would be an action, that would appear inhuman, 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.  Agn. 
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 swinged myself off with Discipline, Blows, and Lashes, often for to combat the innocent motions of Nature, which my Director would needs persuade me were horrible disorders. Ah! have I been so mistaken then? it is undoubtedly by the means of that cruel Maxim, 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?  Ang. 
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 contained in these two Commandments.  Agn. 
How, Angelica, would you leave me in an error?  Ang. 
No, my pretty heart, thou shalt be fully instructed, and I will lend thee a Book which will perfect thy Knowledge, and wherein thou wilt easily learn, what I should not be able to explain to thee, without being out of Countenance.  Agn. 
That's sufficient; I must needs own I found this saying very pleasant. That the Cloisters are the Common shores, where Policy discharges itself of its superfluities; Methinks one could not speak after a more sordid and more humbling manner?  Ang. 
The Truth is, 'tis something a bold expression; but it is not much more offensive, than that of another, who said, That the Friars and Nuns were in the Church, what the Rats and Mice were in the Ark of Noah.  Agn. 
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 sense of all your Words.  Ang. 
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?  Agn. 
No, I intent 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 Confessor.  Ang. 
Kiss me, my pretty Child, I am more moved with what thou tellest me, than if I had made the trial upon myself; that punishment must be the last thou art to mortify thyself with: But prithee didst thou hurt thyself much?  Agn. 
Alas! my zeal was indiscreet, and I fancied the more strokes 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 aught I know I broke the flesh, and made a wound, for that I was wholly transported, when I outraged it so cruelly.  Ang. 
My pretty little Dear, priddee let me see and search it, I'll see what an ill managed fervency is capable of?  Agn. 
O Lord, Why must I suffer this? what you are then in earnest? I cannot endure it without confusion, Oh! Oh!  Ang. 
hay 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.  Agn. 
Indeed indeed I am to blame, and your Curiosity is not to be found fault with; satisfy it according to thy desires.  Ang. 
So, so, this beautiful face that's always 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 China Taffetas, or else the sky at Sunseting; you must needs be very devout at the Mystery of Flagellation, since you scourge your Buttocks at this rate?  Agn. 
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?  Ang. 
Lie 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 myself 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 itself.  Agn. 
Prithee take away thy hand from thence, if thou meanest not to cause there an inflammation 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.  Ang. 
What then you are not of so cold a temper, as thou wouldst needs have persuaded 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 Friars; for this reason I would wish that the time of the retreat, I am going to enter into according to custom, might be deferred, that so we might be together in the Parlour: But no matter, I shall comfort myself with the account thou'lt give me of all that passes, namely, Whether the Abbot performs better than the Jesuit, or the Friar than the Monk; and in short, if all the whole Priesthood is able to give thee full satisfaction.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
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 Backside for fear thou shouldst catch cold; stay let me kiss it once more, and again, and again.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
If this was offending I should sin every moment, for the Scholars and Pensionaries, being committed to my care, obliges me to visit their back apartments very often. But yesterday I whipped 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.  Agn. 
I long for that employment of Mistress 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.  Ang. 
I am not at all surprised at thy request, we are all made of the same Past. Hold I will put myself into thy posture; well now lift up my Pettecoats and my Smock as high as you can.  Ang. 
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.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
You have great reason indeed to complain, this is not the tenth part of the blows I have received; I'll 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 it's 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.  Ang. 
Alas, thou mayst look on't 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 public tranquillity.  Agn. 
How can it disturb it, since we are no longer members of the public? besides faults concealed are half pardoned.  Ang. 
Thou hast reason on thy side; for if as many faults were practised in the World (to speak conformably to our Rules,) as are committed in Cloisters, Policy would be obliged to correct their abuses, and put a stop to all their disorders.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
The Confessors and Directours of Cloisters have a peculiar talon to draw into their nets poor innocent Girls, who fall into a snare when they thought to have found a treasure.  Ang 
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 persuaded me to it; and I should never have taken the vows, if a Jesuit, who at that time governed this Monastery, had not undertaken the matter. A Families concern obliged my Mother, who bore me a tender affection, who had always 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 Customs 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 pretensions, 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 Cousins who was a Nun, and who longed to see me in the habit of a Religious.  Agn. 
Was it not Sister Victoria?  Ang. 
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 itself to be seduced: These were nevertheless but slight preparations, he had many other subtleties 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.  Agn. 
He took the right course; but what answer didst thou make to all this?  Ang. 
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 showed me religion in such colours, 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 Jesuit, who as I had learned 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.  Ang. 
But prithee what said he that was capable of exercising so absolute a power over thy mind?  Ang. 
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 one's self worthy of so Holy and so Excellent a Communication, we were to fly 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.  Ang. 
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 rigours and Austerityes, that might startle thee and divert thee from following the bait.  Ang. 
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 hid 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 always; 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 persuasive 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 Virtue.  Agn. 
This Disciple of Loyala, was a Master Orator, I wish I knew Him.  Agn. 
Thou knowest him well enough, and I will tell thee some small circumstances of his Life, which will make thee believe, that he knows how to play more than one part; But I must First make an end of the rest. You see, Mademoiselle, the Chains, Rigours, and Mortifications I offer you; but would you believe it, said he to me, those Holy Souls whereof I spoke to you just now, are proud of this Yoke, they Glory in this Servitude, and there is no manner of Severe Torment to suffer, but what they esteem a great reward; they make all their Amours and Passion consist in the Service of Jesus Christ. It is he alone who puts 'em all into a Flame in case he does but touch 'em; It is he alone who is the only Master of their Hearts, and who knows how to make their Torments to be succeeded with incredible Joys, Delights and Transports.  Agn. 
Without doubt thou wast charmed with this florrid Talker.  Ang. 
Yes, my pretty Child, I was persuaded by this Quack; His words changed me in a moment, they snatched me from myself, 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 plunged me in, and it is to His Morals that I own all the Repose and Quiet of mind that I now possess.  Agn. 
Prithee tell me quickly who this man is.  Ang. 
'tis Father Raucourt.  Agn. 
Ah Lord! He is an Enchanter. I was once at Confession to him, I took him for the most Devout man in the World; the Truth is, he knows to perfection the Art of insinuating himself into people's affections, and persuades what he desires. But I bear him a grudge, for having left me in the error he found me in, and from whence he might have disengaged me.  Ang. 
Ah! He is too prudent to run such hazards! He saw thee under an extraordinary Bigotry, 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 Director had found in thee some dispositions to follow his Ordinances, he would have been this Physician.  Agn. 
I believe it; but I had as lief have the Obligation thereof to thee as to him. Tell me I beseech thee, some Circumstances of the Life of that Blessed Man?  Ang. 
I will so, My Pretty Heart, but Kiss me, and Embrace me very Amorously first: Ah! Ah! that's fine. Ah how am I charmed with the Beauty of thy Mouth and Eyes! one of thy Kisses alone Transport me more than I am able to Express!  Agn. 
Begin then? Ah thou art a mighty Lover of Kissing!  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
I have heard talk of her, as of a perfect Beauty, but I know no other Circumstances of the Matter.  Ang. 
It is the Loveliest Person that can be seen, if the Picture her Gallant has showed me of her be Faithful; as for Wit she abounds with it as much as she can desire, she is jocund and Facetious, Plays upon several Instruments, and Sings with Charms capable of bewitching people's Hearts. Our Jesuit had already acquired her entirely to himself for some Months, and they both enjoyed that sweet Tranquillity which makes all the Happiness of Lovers; when Jealousy began the disorder I am going to tell you of.  
There was in the same Monastery a Nun, for whom the Father had showed 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 Maiden, the outside and appearance of a Real Love. She quickly perceived the change, and and saw clearly she had a Rival, who shared with her in his offerings. She nevertheless dissembled her spite 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 Ruin of him who despised her.  
To bring this Enterprise of hers the more easily about, she Studied the Hours and Moment's that Virginia met with this Religious Lover; and as she had learned by experience, that he did not content himself with Words, nor light Favours, she fancied she might reasonably surprise them in certain Exercises, the Knowledge whereof rendered her Mistress 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 Bosom: She saw 'em 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 Cloisters only reckoned for Pocadilloes, which Holy Waters washes clean; she held her peace, waiting for a better Occasion to speak.  Agn. 
Ah I am in a terrible fright for poor Virginia!  Ang. 
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 Father's Letters, whose expressions are tender and passionate made a perfect conquest over Virginia. He went to see her after eight day's absence, and observed he should obtain from her what she had always refused him before. In the mean while her Rival was not Idle, for Corresponding with the Matron that was the Doorkeeper, she had notice of the Jesuits arrival, and not doubting but that after so long an interval, they would proceed to such privacies, as she could have wished for herself, 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.  Agn. 
Now does my fear revive! Ah I have a spite against that Curious Creature for disturbing so maliciously the Repose of two unhappy Lovers!  Ang. 
That the Depositions she designed to make of what she saw, might be the more Authentic, 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 another's hands, and with languishing looks spoke 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 surprising saillies, that Love itself 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, replied 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 myself 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 Pew 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 always 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.  Agn. 
And what answer did the Jesuit make to all this?  Ang. 
During the Discourse he said not a Word, but leaning with his head on one of his hands, he looked 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 satisfy 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 satisfy her eyes with the like Curiosity, and the Jesuit 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 Spies desired: They contemplated with an extraordinary satisfaction, the fine parts of their Companions Body, which the Jesuit 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 situation of his Mistress; so that when he considered the fore part, he exposed her Breech to the light, because her Petticoats all round were lifted & tucked up above her middle.  Agn. 
Methinks I am present at this spectacle, so naturally dost thou tell the Story!  Ang. 
At length they terminated their wanton, 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 bias for Ruining the Jesuit, 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 entirely off with that Priest, and not have for the future the least Communication with him. Virginia extremely ashamed at what she heard, engaged herself to all that was desired, only earnestly begs the Jesuits 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 Father's place, and enter into a strict friendship with her.  Agn. 
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?  Ang. 
We are not yet at the end of our History. Virginia immediately wrote a Letter to Father Raucourt, & therein acquainted him with all that had happened, and with the Conditions she had bound herself 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 let 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 surprised; 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 threatened them. I do not say with what surprise 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 forced 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 passed of this Widowhood, 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 herself punctually of her Commission, and the Jesuit 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, ripped 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 closed 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 tried 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 Father's Civilityes, and carried back the four squared Bonnet to the Monastery, delivered 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.  Agn. 
It must be confessed that Love is full of Invention.  Ang. 
This Commerce lasted for above a Month, there was still something to be altered and mended in this Venerable Bonnet; once in three days it was to be carried to the College and back again to the Monastery. Yet no body imagined 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 spoilt all.  Agn. 
Oh Lord, I fancy the whole Plot was discovered by the Touriere.  Ang. 
No, thou art mistaken. It happened that on a fast day, that the Porter of the Jesuits was out of humour, perhaps for that he had not stuffed his Guts, 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 College Gate, for to discharge herself as soon as possible of her Message. This good Friar went out of the Garden he was in, and being come almost out of Breath; thinking it was the Bishop or Archbishop, or some other Grandee, who had rung after so Commanding a manner, was much surprised 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 vexed 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 herself as well as she could, away she went, and the Rector waiting for a Companion in the Porter's 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 College. This man, seeing himself schooled by his Superior, told him all he thought of this Bonnet; told him that it had already jogged & jaunted above 20. times between the College 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.  Agn. 
Oh Lord! how difficult a matter it is to save one's self, when pursued by an ill Destiny, and that it has sworn one's ruin. What happened of all this business?  Ang. 
It happened that the Father was confined into another province, and that poor Virginia has been mortified with some Penances; from hence came that Proverb, That there is a great deal of malice under a Jesuits four square Bonnet.  Agn. 
Good Lord! It was for her alone that I was in fear, but tell me how this came to the knowledge of the Prioress?  Ang. 
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 show thee two Infants of the four squared 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 days 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 Friar, and a Capuchin.  Agn. 
What a mixture! and what wouldst thou have me do with all those people whom I know not?  Ang. 
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 thyself to give me an account of all thy Divertisements when my Exercises are expired.  
End of the First Dialogue.   

Venus in the Cloister, OR THE Nun in Her Smock.  
Second Dialogue.  Sister Angelica, Sister Agnes. ANgelica. 
Ah! God be Praised, I begin to breath again; never was I more pestered with Devotions, Mysteries and Indulgences, than since I left thee; I nauseate strangely all those Superstitions. How dost do? What not a Word? Why do you Laugh?  Agnes. 
I am quite ashamed to appear before your eyes again; I fancy you know all, to the very lest particulars, of what has been said, and done, since your absence.  Ang. 
And who should tell it me? What you railly me? Come, come thy ways into my Room, and think where you are to begin to give me a faithful Narrative. For my part I came out of the hands of a savage Creature, who would have made a person of any other humour than mine mad, I mean my Director; It is the worst natured, and most ignorant man of his Character. I fancy he has made me gain all the Indulgences and Pardons that were ever granted by the Popes, since Gregory the Great to Innocent the XI. If I had followed his Order, I had set my Body in Blood by the Discipline he prescribed me; not that I let him see much malice in the confessions I made him, but because he imagines, that to be in the way of Paradise, one must be as dry, as lean, and as fleshless as himself; and that it is sufficient to be something cheerful and plump to merit all manner of Penances. Judge now, how I have spont my time, and if I had not reason to think it tedious?  Agn. 
For my part I must tell thee, that thou hast given me Directours, who have tired me little less than thine have done; I know not if I have gained Indulgences with 'em; but I am certain that to gain them, many Persons do not do so much as we have done.  Ang. 
That I do not doubt of. But tell me a little News of our Abbot, and let me know if he is capable of any great matter.  Agn. 
Him it was, I first saw, and in whom I found the most heat; there is nothing more lively, and more animated, and there's pleasure in hearing him discourse. I was at the afternoons Recreation, when word was brought me, that he asked to speak with me. As I knew the Lady Abbess was indisposed, I sent him word by the Porter, that he should go into the Great Parlour, and that he would not grow impatient. I made him wait for a large quarter of an hour, because I changed my Veil, and some other things, that I might appear the Neater before him, and endeavour to answer the hopes he had of seeing a Person, of whom he had heard so advantageous a Description. At the first I seemed something mute and silent, answering very seriously to the civilities he paid me, but this did not discourage him; on the contrary he took an occasion to tell me very boldly, that he knew the Fair Ladies had the freedom to speak after a certain indifferent manner, which would be unbecoming in others; but that he had reason to hope, that presenting himself under the Favour and Recommendation of my best Friend, his Visit could not but be grateful to me.  Agn. 
He passes for a Wit; and we may say that his great Travels accompanied with much experience, have added to his natural advantages all the perfection he had wanting.  Agn. 
I know not what thou hadst told him of me, but I found he made great Progress for a first Visit! He turned the Conversation upon the Austerity of Religious Houses, and endeavoured to persuade me by an infinite number of Reasons, not to follow the indiscreet Zeal of several, terming all those ridiculous, who indifferently put in practice all sorts of Mortifications. He made me laugh at the Natural account he gave me, of what happened to him in Italy with a Nun of St. Bennet, of whose cunning he made use of to see her as often as he pleased, and how at length he received such favours from her, as were to be the effect of his Assiduities. He assured me that before that acquaintance, he had always believed, it was only amongst the Nuns that the true Vestal Chastity was preserved, and that he had always persuaded himself, that those recluse Souls, lived in so perfect a Continency, as that of the Angels; but that he had found the contrary, and that nothing perfect is meanly spoiled; and that a thing keeps in its Corruption, the same degree it had in its Goodness; he had observed there was nothing more dissolute than all the Reclused and Bigots, when they find occasion to divert themselves. He shown me a certain Instrument of Glass, which he had received from her, whom I have spoke to thee of, and assured me, that he had learned from her, there were above fifty of the same in the Monastery, and that all from the Abbess to the last Professor managed it oftener than their Beads.  Ang. 
That's fine! but thou tellest me nothing of what concerns thyself.  Agn. 
What wouldst thou have me tell thee? He is the most wanton man upon the face of the earth. At the second visit he made me, I could not dispense myself from granting him some favour; he opposed all my reasons with Morals so strong, and so full of artifice, that he rendered all my Efforts useless and to no purpose: He shown me three Letters from our Abbess, which assured me that let me do what I would, I should only walk in her steps. She has spent whole nights with him, and only terms him in her Letters the Abbot of Love's Paradise. I represented to him, that the Grate was an insurmountable obstacle, and that he must of necessity content himself with some slight wanton, since it was impossible to proceed any farther. But he gave me sufficiently to understand, that he was much more knowing than I, and shown me two Board's, that were to be lifted up, the one on his side and the other on mine, and which gave sufficient passage for a Person: He told me that it was by his advice, that the Lady Abbess had so ordered the business, that she had called it the Straight of Gilbraltar, and that she one day told him, that he must not venture passing it without being well provided with all things necessary, particularly if he had any design to stop at the Pillars of Hercules. Thus after several contests on both Sides, The Abbot passed the Straight, and arrived at the Port where he was received, but it was not without difficulty, and only after having assured me that his entrance should have no ill consequence; I allowed him to ancher as long as was necessary to render him happy; it was the seventh of the Month of August, which was a day that my Lady Abbess was used to be Employed in great Ceremonies, but that her indisposition had obliged to defer till the next Month following what she commonly observed in this. He told me that she had created the second year she was Abbess an Order of Knighthood, which was composed only of Priests, Monks, and Abbots, and Religious and Eclesiastical Persons. That those who were admitted into it, took an Oath to keep the secret of the Order, and called themselves the Knights of the Grate, or of St. Laurence; that the Colour which was given them at the day of their Reception, was composed of the Ciphers of my Lady Abbess, interwoven with Flames of Love, and that below hung a Medal of Gold, Representing the Patron of the Order, lying all naked upon a Grate, in the midst of Flames, with these Words, Ardorem Craticula Fovet, That is to say, The Grate Augments my Heat. He shown me the Collar he had received, and after he had made me some presents of curious Books, we parted from one another until a new Interview.  Ang. 
Thou hast told me nothing now touching this Order established by my Lady Abbess; my Lord Bishop of ✚ ✚ ✚, is the First Knight of it, the Abbot de Beaumond the Second, the Abbot du Prat the Third, the Prior de Pompiere the Fourth; these are the Principals and the First in date; they are followed by Jesuits, by Jacobins, Augustins, Carmelites, Fathers of the Oratory, and the Provincial of the Cordeliers. So as at the last Promotion, which was made in the year last passed, the Number was Twentytwo. But it is observable, that there is a great deal of difference between them, and that they cannot all enjoy equal Privileges; there are of them who call themselves the Blue Ribonds, and these are those who are the Almighties, who have the secret of the Order, and who dispose of my Lady Abbesses affairs as my Lady Abbess manages theirs. As for the others their Power is limited, it has bounds which they cannot pass. And they have little more advantage than the Aspirers, until that by their Zeal, their Prudence and their Discretion, they have rendered themselves worthy of being of the Great Profession. Of all the Monks, the Capuchins alone are excluded, because the Beardwhich disguises them so much, has rendered them Odious to our Abbess, who says, that she cannot imagine that any Person of our Sex can bear any Good Will to those Satyrs. But to the purpose tell me some tidings of Father Vital of Charenton.  Agn. 
I should never have believed no more than my Lady Abbess, that a Capuchin, could have been capable of a Gallantry, if this man had not persuaded me of it by his Conduct. He came to see me three days after our Abbot, we went into the Parlour of St. Augustin, and there it was that he tickled my fancy with so many wanton discources, that I could not have expected more from a professed Courtier. Besides, he spoke so boldly that I was ashamed to hear come out of the mouth of a man, words at first something Libertine, but at length the most dissolute the greatest Debauchees could have made use of. I could not forbear making him sensible of my astonishment, and letting him know, that there was excess in his transports; which made him use some moderation in the matter. He made me three visits during thy retreat, and at the last he obtained no great Favours from me, because the Parlour where we were had not the conveniencies of the others. I will only tell thee, that he prepared me sufficient matter to laugh at, in that having by his efforts loosened one of the Bars of the Iron in the Grate, and thinking he had made a passage sufficiently large, to pass through it, he ventured, notwithstanding my dissuasions: But through he could not get, for as much as having passed his head, and one of his shoulders with a great deal of difficulty, his Cowle got hold of one of the spikes without, so notwithstanding all his struggling he could not get rid of that snare. I could not contemplate him in that posture, without bursting out a laughing, I made him get back again as soon as he could, and caused him to put the Grate so as it was before. He gave me three or four Books which he had mentioned to me in his first Visit, and withdrew very ill satisfied with his Adventure.  Ang. 
I am sorry for this disorder, for without doubt this will have discouraged him.  Agn. 
Discouraged him! Good Lord! He's no man, take my word, to be discouraged; he is the most impudent and most dissolute of all men; I hope he'll be here yet before the Weeks at an end, he has promised me the Collection of the secret Amours of Robertd, Abrissel; he began to tell me the story, but I can't believe its true, it must needs be a piece of Invention.  Ang. 
thou'rt mistaken, there is nothing more true; and several grave Authors write, that he was used to Lie with his Nuns that he might try 'em, and observe at the same time in his own Person, how far the strength of virtue can prevail, which combat the temptations of the flesh; he thought this very meritorious in him, and this it was that gave occasion to Godfrey of Vendome, to term this Devotion pleasant and ridiculous, in a Letter he wrote to St. Bernard, and calls this fervency a new kind of Martyrdom; This has hitherto been the occasion of that mans not being placed in the Calendar of the Saints by the Court of Rome, he is nevertheless termed Blessed.  Agn. 
We must own, that there are many abuses practised in our Religion, and I am not now at all surprised, that so many Nations have separated themselves from our Church, to apply themselves literally to the Scriptures. The Father Mendicant whom I saw during thy retreat, made me Visibly remark all the faults of the present Government, as to what concerns Religion: he is a man who for his Age, (for he is not yet Six and Twenty Years Old) possesses all the Sciences that can render a person accomplished of what Character soever he may be; he speaks Universally upon all subjects, but with so easy an air that Savours nothing of the Pedant.  Ang. 
I perceive thou art pleased with him, he is well made, and a lusty handsome Sawny, for my part I always call him my swinging Towzer; in what Parlour sawest thou him?  Agn. 
I saw him twice, he first was in the Parlour of St. Joseph, and the last was in that of my Lady Abbess.  Ang. 
Well, well, that is to say, he passed the Streigths, he well deserved it, and there's delight in seeing him play his part.  Agn. 
He gave me two small vials of Essence, which have a wonderful Odour, he was perfumed from top to toe, and with so Animated a Vermilion, that I at first suspected he had been at the little pot; but I found the contrary afterwards, and saw that the Red only proceeded from the fervency of his Passion. I was infinitely pleased with his discourse, and his way of toying and wantoning, and I made no difficulty of granting him the passage I had so much disputed with our Abbot. I represented to him, that there was reason to fear, that the follies we two committed would be followed with a third: I understand you, replied he, and at the same time took a little Book out of his pocket which he gave me, the title of it was, Soft and easy Remedies against dangerous swelling. He told me it would teach me what I had to do in such an occasion, he put a little Conserve into my mouth, which I found had no ill taste; I know not if it contained any secret Virtue, but immediately he put himself into a posture of attacking the Pillars of Hercules.  Ang. 
That is to say, swinging Towzer won thy Heart.  Agn. 
Certain it is that he shared it with the Abbot; I cannot tell thee to whom I could give the preferrence: One thing alone displeased me in the Mendicant, which is, that having seen about his neck a Reliquary of Gild Vermilion, which he wore upon his heart; I had the curiosity to open it, but I was very much surprised to find nothing else, than a kind of a down, and hairs of different colours, divided into Figures and Flowers in several Branches, and very well done. He owned to me that these were the Favours of all his Mistresses, and desired me to countenance likewise his Devotion with the like, and that what I should bless him with a grant of should be put in the finest place of all! Well in short I complied with his humour! I forgot to tell thee that there was in Characters of Gold, this inscription in the midst of a Crystal which covered all this fine Merhandizes, Relics of the Holy Beard. Upon the outside of the Reliquary there was Engraven a Cupid, in a Throne, with this Noddy of a Friar prostrate at his feet, with these Words which I have remembered, though they be Latin, Ave Lex, Jus, Amor. I blamed him for this irreverence, which I termed Impiety, but he did but laugh at it, and said he could not refuse these Worships to those who merited all manner of adorations; and that if I knew but how to decipher seven other letters, which were on the other side, I should make many more Exclamations. And indeed having looked upon it again, I saw the seven following Letters, A. C. D. E. D. L. G. But he would not unriddle the matter to me, though I was very earnest with him, and seemed to take pet, but he perceived that I was not hearty angry with him, therefore he hug'd me once more, and we took leave of one another.  Ang. 
I am overjoyed, my Pretty Creature, that all things have succeeded so according to my wishes; this is but a Sample of what I will do for thee. And I will procure thee the acquaintance of a Jesuit, to whom thou wilt undoubtedly give the Prize, and wilt own that he has got the advantage over all the others. But he is jealous of his acquaintance, even to Excess, 'tis the only fault that thou canst find in him, otherwise a handsome man, gallant, a florid talker and ignorant of nothing that can come to the Knowledge of a Person.  Agn. 
That imperfection is great enough of all conscience, to hinder me from having any Communication with him.  Ang. 
And why so? Thou wilt find it a difficult matter to meet with a man who really Loves and is not jealous. I remember I was once acquainted with a Benedictin, who fancied that all the Nuns of St. Bennet could not Converse with Friars of another Order without injustice, and that they stole from him and his Fraternity all the Favours they bestowed upon the Capuchins, and his reasons were as follows. It is not to be doubted, but that men, who have devoted themselves to Religion, are subject to the same Passions and Motions, with those who are in the World. Wherefore said he, the Pounders of Orders who were very prudent Persons, did not only raise Cloisters for those of their own Sex, but at the same time built the like for Maidens, that without having recourse to strangers, they might ease and comfort one another from time to time, in the rigour of their Vows. In the beginning this was practised, according to the intent of the Institutors; by which means there arose not the least scandal; but at present these Places savour too much of the General Corruption; we see without any trouble, the Bernardin Friar, in Conjunction with the Jacobin Nun; the Cordelier with the Benedictin Vestal; and from this horrible Confusion, nothing can arise and proceed but Monsters.  Agn. 
That thought was pleasant enough.  Ang. 
Alas! Cried he, what would those Holy Founders say at the sight of so many Adulterers, if they returned upon the Earth? How many Thunderbolts and Anathemas would they hurl against their own Children! Would not St. Francis send again the Capuchins, to the Capuchinesses, the Cordeliers to the Nuns of the same Order: Saint Dominick, and St. Bernard and all the rest, would not they bring again those Stragglers into the first way of their Rules and Constitutions, that is to say, the Jacobins to the Jacobinesses, the Mendicant to the Nuns of that Order? But what would become of the Jesuits, and the Chartereux said I to him, for neither St. Ignatius, nor St. Bruno drew up Rules for the Female Sex. Oh! that Spaniard, replied he, took care enough for that, he did this on purpose that they might have occasion to forage over all with impunity; besides following his fancy which was something Pederaste, he has put 'em into employments, wherein they find amongst the youth moments of satisfaction, which they prefer before all the Divertisements of others.  
As for the Chartreux, continued he, as Retreat is strictly ordered them, they seek in themselves the pleasures they cannot take with others, and by a brisk animated War, they make a shift to subdue the Highest Temptation & Insurrection of the flesh. They renew the combat as often as the Enemy makes any against them, they employ their resistance in all their vigour, and call these sorts of Expeditions; The War of Five against One. Well did not the Disciple of St Bernard speak very Learnedly?  Agn. 
He did indeed, I should have taken delight in hearing him.  Ang. 
There's nothing more certain than if this was practised, and that if in the disorder itself, some rules were followed, all would go much better. It is now a year since that a young Nun would not have been so unhappy as she has since been, if she had done with the Provincial of her Order, what she did with that of another. Thou hast perhaps heard talk of Sister Cecil, and of Father Raymond.  Agn. 
No I han't; tell me what thou knowest of 'em.  Ang. 
Sister Cecil is a Nun of the Order of St. Augustine, and Father Raymond, was the Provincial of the Jacobins. I shall not tell thee after what manner he insinuated himself into the Breast of that innocent Creature, who had been inaccessible to all others before; But thou shalt only know, that he acquired her to himself, that never friendship was more strict and engageing, and they could not rest a moment without seeing or receiving News from one another. This Commerce was taken notice of in the Society; and the Provincial Augustin, who Governed that Convent, having received an inkling of this matter, was ready to die for vexation; because he had never been able to obtain those Privacies with her, though he had used all manner of means to corrupt her. She was the greatest Beauty in that Monastery. Being thus nettled to the quick, he wrote to the Abbess, and gave her order to have an eye upon Cecil's Behaviour. It was an easy matter for this Guardian, quickly to discover some extravagancies, for that the Parties were not upon their Guard; but what they saw was only little wanton; but however these were sufficient to give ground and occasion to a jealous man, who had the Power in his hand to misuse a Poor Nun. Nevertheless he did not entertain such a design, but purposed to himself, though making use of that occasion, to have from her what he had not been able to obtain before. He wrote to her himself, that the business might not make a noise, and forid her the Grate until his Arribval, being twenty Leagues distant.  Agn. 
But could any Proof be produced against her, that she had done any notable matter?  Ang. 
Oh! That's an easy business to find, though there were none, when one has a design to destroy a Person. But all the mischief only came from that she was ill advised. The Provincial being thus arrived, told her, that nothing brought him thither, but the informations of her ill Conduct; that it was a shameful thing for such a young Nun as she, to abandon herself to Actions, that could not be named for their Infamousness; and that he was very sorry to find himself obliged, to inflict upon her an exemplary punishment. Cecil (who was only culpable before man of some little wanton, as of eyeing and feeling) told him that it was true, she had often seen the Father Raymond they talked of, but that she also knew, that she had done nothing with him, that merited any notable reprehension; that she had forbidden him to see her, as soon as she had received Orders for so doing; and that she had thereby shown, that there was nothing very binding in their Engagement. The Provincial to bring about his design, changing discourse, spoke to her in more softer terms than before, and represented to her, that if any Mortification happened to her upon this account, she herself would be the cause of it; that she might remedy the disorder she had occasioned; and that it was a very easy matter for her, to parry those rigorous corrections, which she could not fail of falling under, if she did not make use of the advantages she possessed He took her at the same time by the hand, which he grasped after an Amorous manner, eyeing her with a smile, which ought to have made her understood the disposition of her Judge's Heart.  Agn. 
Did she not make use of what she had most engaging to free herself out of the danger she was in?  Ang. 
No, she did not; but took a quite contrary course to that she ought to have followed; she imagined that it was to try her, that her Provincial spoke in this manner, and that his whole scope and design was, to Judge by her weakness, of what she had been capable to do with the other. Upon this ill foundation, she only answered him, who burned with Love for her, by Coldness and words more than indifferent; which changed the heart of that Amorous Priest, who of a tender Lover became by these means an implacable Judge. Whereupon he proceeded according to the Forms, in the information of Cecils process; he received the depositions which jealousy and flattery put into the mouth of several of her Companions, and condemned this poor Child to be whipped till Blood come, to fast ten Frydays on Bread and Water, and to be excluded from the Parlour six Months: So as one may say, she was punished for having been too Wise, and for not suffering herself to be corrupted by the Brutality of her Superior.  Agn. 
Good God this story moves me strangely to Compassion; and I look upon that poor Nun, as an Innocent Victim, offered up to the rage of a Furious man, and I make no difference between her, and the Eleven thousand Virgins.  Ang. 
Thou art in the right; for these are said to have been slain, because they would not satisfy the Passion of a man, and poor Cecil was only outraged out of the same Motive & Reason. As there is no Animal in the World is more Luxurious than a Monk, so there is none more Malign and more Vindictive, when his Flames are despised. I have read upon this Subject a Story of a cursed Capuchin, in a Book Entitled the Goat at Rutt. But now we talk of Books, prithee tell me what those are which thou hast received during my Retreat? I expect to have the Reading of 'em.  Agn. 
With all my heart; some of them are pleasant enough, this is the Catalogue of 'em. 

Pregnant Chastity, a Curious Novel.  
The Jesuits Pastime, a Piece of Gallantry.  
The Prison Enlightened, or the Opening of the Little-Wicket, all in Figures.  
The Journal of the Fevillantine Nuns.  
The Prowesses of the Knights of St. Laurence.  
Rules and Statutes of Conny-Borough-Nunnery.  
A Collection of Remedies against dangerous Swelling.  
Composed for the Conveniency of the Religious Ladies of St. George.  
The Extrean Unction of the dying Virginity.  
The Apostolical Orvietan Composed by Four Mendicant Friars, Expraecepto Sanctissimi.  
The Monk's Devotion.  
The Abbot's Pastime.  
The Chartreux Warr.  
The Fruits of the Unitive Life, etc.   I believe I am not mistaken, that I have not forgot one in this List; I have already Read Five or Six of 'em, which have pleased me infinitely.  Ang. 
Certainly they have made thee a present of a whole Library. If the Contents be answerable to the Frontispieces, I do not doubt but that they must needs be very diverting: thou hast wherewith to perfectionate thy Wit, and to render thee so as thou oughtest to be, that is to say, Universal in all Sciences; for there are those, who in the midst of a great deal of light and understanding, do still lie under doubts, which renders 'em sometimes uneasy, and whose consequences are often dangerous. I will tell thee a Story upon this Subject that happened in the Abbey at Chelles.  Agn. 
You must needs have wonderful intrigues, to know all that passed most secret in all the Monasteries.  Ang. 
Thou must know, that the Abbess of that House, being of a very hot Constitution, was used to Bathe every Summer for some weeks together. Her Bath was set up according to the prescription of Her Physician, who for the making it thought the better, prescribed a particular Rule and Method to observe, without which it would be of no use. It was entirely to be prepared on the Evening, before she was to go into it, and let the water rest all the Night till the Morrow, and then she might at certain hours go into the Bath. Sweet Scents and Essences were not spared, they were thrown in with profusion, and all that could flatter the Lady's sensuality had place in his Composition.  Agn. 
Ah these Quacks and Physicians by a pretended Complaisance do thus nourish and inflame People's weaknesses!  Ang. 
Be it as it will; a young Nun of the House called Sister Scholastica, of above Eighteen years of age, seeing all these Great preparations for my Lady Abbess, and perceiving that the Bath was ready the Evening before, entertained the design, (as well for easing herself of the inconveniency of the Season, as of her interior Heat which was not very small) to take hold of the Occasion, to make trial every Night of that salutary Lavabo. And indeed she constantly went into it for eight days together, and found that this gave a Lustre to her plump Body, and that she slept and rested the better for it. She went out of her Chamber about Nine a Clock, and almost Naked in her Smock, went to the place where all was ready; she quickly got off her Petticoats and her Smock, and thus Stark Naked went she into the Tub, where she cleaned and rubbed herself all over, and then afterwards came out, as Clean, as Pure, and as Beautiful as was Eve in the Terrestrial Paradise, during the State of her Innocence.  Agn. 
Was not she discovered?  Ang. 
Thou'lt presently hear the whole matter. One Night that Scholastica was Refreshing herself at the usual Rate, one of the Old Nuns, who was not yet asleep, having heard walking in the Dormitory, at an hour that according to Custom all Nuns were to be Retired, went out of her Chamber, and after having sought to no purpose the Person she had heard, she entered into the place where the Bath stood, where she perceived immediately by the Light of the Moon, a Nun stark Naked, who was rubbing herself with a Napkin, being ready to put on her Smock again. The silly Old Dowdy thinking it was the Abbess, retired in all haste & begged Pardon for her intrusion. Scholastica made her no answer, but could perceive that this Old Matron was mistaken, and had taken her for another. Away went she too, after having given the other time enough to withdraw, without intending to come thither again for fear she should be caught.  Agn. 
Well, but did the thing stop here?  Ang. 
No, Poor Scholastica's Buttocks would have been glad it had.  Agn. 
How! did that Pretty Creature come to suffer for it?  Ang. 
The Venerable Matron I mentioned, having reflected in the Morning upon what she had seen the Night before, thought it convenient to go to my Lady Abbess, to make her her particular Excuses for that Encounter, which she might attribute to an ill Curiosity; which she accordingly did, unluckily. This Extremely Surprised the Abbess, and made her believe, that she had had only the leave of the filth of some infirm Nun of her Society: she spoke of it in the Chapel next Morning, and commanded (by Virtue of Holy Obedience) her who had put herself into the Bath, to declare it. But not one of the Company spoke a Word; Scholastica was none of the most scrupulous, and had Wit and Sense, wherefore she held her peace. This General silence put the Abbess into despair, she cried, thundered, threatn●d 'em all; but all to no purpose. At length by the Advice of a Monk, she practised a pleasant Stratagem: She caused all her Nuns to assemble, and represented to them, that there was one among them Excommunicated, and in the State of Damnation, for not having revealed what she had been Commanded to declare by Virtue of Holy Obedience; that a Holy and Learned man had given her an infallible means to discover her, but that she still allowed her to speak the Truth, and avoid by that means the severe Penance, which she would draw upon herself, by her formal obstinate Disobedience.  Agn. 
Good Lord! I am terribly afraid for Scholastica in this perplexity, for all the Counsel of Monks are always pernicious.  Ang 
My Lady Abbess seeing that this last Constraint had been without effect, she followed the Advice that had been given her. She caused a Table in a Room to be covered with a Coffin-Pall, & set in the midst the Cup of the Sacristie. This being so disposed, she commanded all her Vestals to enter after one another into that Room, and to touch with their right hand the Foot of that Sacred Cup, (these were the Terms she used) that was set upon the Table, that by this means she should know, who it was that so obstinately concealed this wicked Fact so long, because that she would not sooner have put her fingers upon that Sacred Cup, than that the Table would fall upon the floor, and discover by a secret Virtue from above, she who should be Culpable. This was done about Nine a Clock at Night, and in the dark: whereupon they all entered into the Room, and touched the Foot of the Cup with their hands. Scholastica was the only Person who durst not do it, for fear of being discovered, and only touched the Carpet. After which she retired with the rest into another Room, which was also without Light, from whence the Abbess made them come to her one after the other, when all the Ceremonies were over. Now it is observable, that she had blacked the foot of the Cup with Oil and Soot, so as it was impossible to touch it, without bearing away the marks of it. Thus having lighted a Candle in the Room she was in, she viewed the hands of all those Nuns, and found they had all touched the Cup, except Scholastica who had no black upon her fingers, like the rest of Her Society. This made her judge, that it must be she who had committed the fault. This poor innocent Creature, seeing herself thus trappaned by this Trick and Artifice, had recourse to tears and excuses, and came off for a couple of Disciplines, which she received before all the Company. Well! this was only that outside of Religion, which was impiously made use of, which made her afraid; and if she had made the least reflection upon the impossibility there was, of discovering her by so ridiculous an Artifice, she would not have been found out.  Agn. 
That's right; but the Abbess ought to have pardoned her, upon the account of her Beauty and her Youth.  Ang. 
She might so, but she did not; nay, and I have heard say, that the first Discipline, which she ordered her, lasted for above a quarter of an hour; judge then of the condition the poor Buttocks of that pretty Creature must needs be in.  Agn. 
They were undoubtedly much like mine when I shown 'em thee: If it lay in my Power I would condemn that Cursed Counsellor of the Abbess to be a perpetual Galley Slave; and if the same business had happened to me, I would have laid so many snares for that Monk, by the means of some friends abroad, that I would have made him repent his Stratagem.  Ang. 
Dost thou think, that if he had in the least suspected this punishment would have fallen upon Scholastica, he would have had a hand in it? No; he imagined as well as the Abbess, that it was some Old or some Infirm Creature that had been surprised, and it is that that turned the Lady Abbesses Stomach, for having, as she fancied, washed herself in the filthy leave of such Persons.  Agn. 
For my part I believe she was more at ease, when she knew it was Scholastica, who had been dabbling in the Bath; for people are not disgusted with a young neat and handsome Girl, as thou hast represented her to me. The Penance she received puts me in mind of that of Virginia, and of the Children of the Jesuits four-square-Cap.  Ang. 
Stay; I'll show you two of 'em I have in my Box, one from Father Raucourt, the other from Virginia; here read this first.  Agn. 
This is almost like a woman's hand, it is so scrawled and so carelessly written.  
Ah God My Dear Child, now do I begin to be tired with this commerce of Letters! It does but the more Augment my Flames, and not ease 'em in the least. It tells me that Virginia has a kindness for me, but lets me know at the same time, that it is impossible for me to enjoy her. Alas! what strange motions does this mixture of sweetness and bitterness cause in such a heart as mine! I had heard say, that Love sometimes inspires those with Wit who were unprovided of it, but I find in myself a quite contrary effect; and I may truly say, that it takes from me what it doth present to others; several take notice of this change, but they are ignorant of the cause of it. I yesterday Preached at the Convent of the Nuns, of the Visitation, never was I more animated, & inspired; I ought Conformably to my Subject have entertained the Company with Mortification and Penance; But my whole Sermon and Discourse was made up of affections, and tendernesses, and sailleys and transports. It is you, Virginia, who causes all this disorder; wherefore take compassion of the confusion I am in, and endeavour betimes to find the means of bringing me back to my right Senses.  Ang. 
Well Agnes, what dost thou say of this Child got in haste?  Agn. 
I find it worthy of its Father, and capable all naked as it is of Dress and Ornament, not only of keeping to itself a heart that it possesses, but even of exciting there new motions.  Ang. 
Thou art in the right; for in some the most careless stile is always the most persuasive; and oftentimes all the Eloquence of an Orator cannot produce those soft Transports in a Breast, as are only the effects of a less lofty term, but more expressive. This is a Truth I can give Testimony of, since I have tried it several times in myself. But let us see a little, if Virginia expresses herself so well as her Lover.  Agn. 
Give me the Letter that I may read it.  Ang. 
There take it, 'tis rather a Note than a Letter, for it's but five or six Lines in all.  Agn. 
Her hand is little different from mine.  
Ah! how cunning are you in your words, and you know to perfection the art of disturbing the little Repose a poor innocent Creature who loves you has left? can you with reason ask me, if I think on you? Alas, my Dear, consult but with your own self, and believe that we cannot both be animated with one and the same Passion, without undergoing the like and equal torments.  
Adieu! be mindful of the breaking of our Chains; Love renders me Capapable of any enterprise. Ah! how much weakness does it cause in me!  Ang. 
In good earnest, Dost thou not think-this Note more tender than the Letter?  Agn. 
Yes indeed. We may say it is all Heart, and that two or three Periods express as much the disposition of the Soul of a Lover, as would do two Pages of a Romance. But I do not see that it is an answer to that we have read from Father Raucourt.  Ang. 
No, 'tis not, 'tis to an other which was not sent me.  Agn. 
I pity the misfortunes of those two Lovers; especially I bear an extreme Compassion to the troubles of Virginia, for undoubtedly she spends her time at present in a great deal of anxiety and affliction, and leads a very wretched tedious life.  Ang. 
If she had not kept the Letters and Notes that had been sent to her, she would not have been so unhappy; for than they would not have discovered the Design she had, of making her escape out of the Monastery.  Agn. 
Then it is undoubtedly that she means, when she says in Her Letter, Think of the rapture of our Chains. I should not have hit of the right sense of these words; Alas! poor Creature, how unhappy had she been, had she committed that egregious mistake: Alack-aday, Alackaday! What is not Love capable of doing, when it meets with opposition.  Ang. 
As soon as the Rector of the Jesuits had learned what passed, by the Letter he found in the Bonnet, he gave notice thereof to the Abbess, who went immediately with Her Assistance to search Virginia's Chamber, where she found in her Box an infinite Number of Letters and other trifles, which discovered to her the truth of what she could not have believed, if she had not seen it. As she highly loved Virginia, she only showed in these proceed, what she could not well conceal, and moderated the punishment which the Constitutions do prescribe.  Agn. 
The Jesuit was more happy since he came off only for Changing his Province.  Ang. 
Phoogh! You're mistaken, this storm did not blow over so easily as thou imaginest. He is at present out of Society. Thou must know that as in that Society all is hinged and established upon Esteem and Reputation, it is impossible for a man of honour to remain in it, after he has lost by some accident, those two things which so agreably flatter the Ambition of mankind. Father Raucourt seeing himself thus fallen, by the misfortune I told thee, from that degree of Glory, which he had acquired by his Merits, and wherein he had always maintained himself by his Prudence, set little value upon the Indulgence which his Superiors offered him, and thought only of abandoning them; which he did a while ago, and retired into England.  Agn. 
What can a man do in a foreign Country, who has no other fortune than knowledge, nor other Estate than Philosophy.  Ang. 
What can he do? Why he can render himself more useful to the Commonwealth, than all the Artificers who compose it: He may by his writings give vigour to Laws the most opposite to the Inclination of the people; he may carry the Glory of a Nation into places the most remote: In short, there are very few Employments, but which he can worthily acquit himself of, and from which the State may draw considerable Advantages. As what I say is not void of Reason, so neither is it without example; and I have learned from a Dominican, that a Malcontent of their Order was at the Court of that Kingdom, whither Raucourt made his Retreat, and that he made a very fine Figure there, in the quality of a Resident or Envoy of a Germane Prince.  Agn. 
Without doubt he would have conducted Virginia into that Country, if they had brought about their designs. Alas! there would be but few reclused of either Sex, if those who go into Cloisters had but time given them to reflect upon the Advantages of Civil Liberty, and upon the ill Consequences of a Fatal Engagement.  Ang 
Why dost thou talk at this rate? Cannot we enjoy as perfect Pleasures within the compass of our walls, as those do who are abroad? The Obstacles that oppose them, do but serve to give 'em the better taste and relish, when that after having cunningly and dextrously surmounted 'em, we possess what we have desired. It would be both malign and ungrateful, to censure the Divertizements both of Monks and Nuns; for I should ask those people, is it not true, that Continency is a gift of God, which he gratifies whom he pleases with, and which he only bestows upon those whom he thinks fitting to Honour! This being supposed, he will only require an account of that Present from those to whom he gave it.  Agn. 
I do well enough understand the strength of that reason, but one might say that the Vows by which we solemnly engage ourselves, do render us responsible before him.  Ang. 
And dost thou not perceive, that those Vows which thou makest in the hands of men, are only Songs? Canst thou with reason oblige thyself to give what thou hast not? And what thou canst not have, unless it pleases him to whom thou offerest it, to grant it thee? Judge from hence of the Nature of our engagements; and if to the rigour we are held according to God, to the effect of our promises; since that they contain in 'em a moral impossibility, thou hast nothing to say to destroy this argument.  Agn. 
'Tis true, I have not, and this is what ought to set our minds at rest?  Ang. 
For my part I may say, that nothing troubles me, I spend my time in an Equality of mind, which renders me insensible to the Torments which weary and fatigue others. I see all, hear all, but few things are capable of moving me; and if my Repose were not troubled by some Corporal Indisposition, there is not a Person could Live with more Tranquillity than I do.  Agn. 
But in a Conduct so opposite to that of other Cloisters, What do you think of the disposition of their Souls, and those Actions which are followed as they Preach, with so many merits, do not they tempt by the hopes they propose? They might tell us, that Libertinism is often capable to furnish us with Reasons for our own ruin. For what is more Holy than the Meditation of Celestial things, wherein they employ themselves? What is more Laudable and Praiseworthy than that great Piety which they put in practice, and the fastings and austerities wherewith they mortify themselves, can they pass under the Notion of Fruitless Works?  Ang. 
Ah! my poor Child, how weak are all these obligations. Thou must know, that there is a great deal of difference between Licentiousness & Liberty; I often in my actions hold myself upon the rim of the latter, but now fall into the disorder of the former. If I do not give bounds to my joy and to my pleasures, it is because they are innocent, and that they never wound by their excess the things for which I ought to have a Veneration. But give me leave to tell thee what I think of those Melancholy Fools, with whose manners thou art charmed; dost thou know that what thou callest Contemplation of things Divine, is only at the bottom a sordid Laziness incapable of all Action? That the Motions of that Heroic Piety which thou so much extollest, do only proceed from the disorder of a cracked Brain; and that to find out the cause that makes them tear themselves like distracted people, you must seek it in the vapours of a Black humour, or in the weakness of their Pericranium?  Agn. 
I take so much delight in hearing thy Reasons, that I proposed to thee all on purpose as a difficulty which did not make me suffer the least doubt; but I hear the Bell that calls us!  Ang. 
It is to go to the Refectory, after Dinner we will continue our Conferences.  
The End of the Second Dialogue.   

Venus in the Cloister, OR THE Nun in Her Smock.  
Third Dialogue.  Sister Agnes, Sister Angelica. AGnes, 
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.  Angelica, 
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 exposed to the heat of the Sun.  Agn. 
True; but it is to be feared that my Lady Abbess will come to recreate herself here, for this is the place she most commonly chooses to take the Air in after meals.  Ang. 
Be not you afraid of her coming to disturb us here, she is indisposed at present, and if thou knewest but the cause of her indisposition, thou wouldst laugh hearty.  Agn. 
Why she was well enough yesterday?  Ang 
She was so, the Disaster only befell her this night, and thou must needs have slept very sound, if thou didst not perceive that, by her shrieks and bawl out, she frighted and alarmed 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.  Agn. 
The truth is, I hear nothing but what's public.  Ang. 
You know that one of my Ladies Principal Pleasures consists in nourishing all sorts of Animals, and that she does not content herself with enjoying an infinite number of Birds, she has likewise rendered tame & Domestic, 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 rendered, (as he had been given to understand) even Carp and Pikes, tame and familiar; he sent her four days ago two live Mackerells, two Sea Crabs, likewise living. After having caused 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 caused 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 Sweetmeats and Sugar-plums; in short, she would only feed 'em with the most delicate meats and food.  Agn. 
Those sort of pastimes are innocent and excusable in youth.  Ang. 
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 trailed along the Chamber, until that seeing itself 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 constrained to have recourse to the water of my Lady's Chamber-Pot, where without examining whether it was fresh or salt it posted itself. 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 itself watered with something too warm a shower, launched forth towards the place from whence it seemed to come, and seized it so hard with one of its paws, that take my word it has left marks there for above this week.  Agn. 
Ha', ha', ha', This, this indeed is a pleasant Adventure!  Ang. 
At the very same moment she gave a skrich that awakened all her neighbours, fling the Looking-glass upon the floor, and getting up in a terrible fright, called people to her help. In the mean while this Animal, 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 soon up; Cornelia had much ado to forbear laughing at the sight of such a scene, but checked herself 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' 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' 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.  Agn. 
Ah Lord! I should not dare to appear if such an accident had happened to me, and that it was come to other people's knowledge.  Ang. 
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 placed their hands several times where the Crab placed his paw.  Agn. 
But which of all her Knights is her greatest Darling.  Ang. 
I know not well which is, but this I know that a Jesuit 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 servant 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 near the window; I do not speak of this Rencounter, I only observed that the loss made her somewhat uneasy.  Agn. 
What needed she 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.  Ang. 
Right, She is Mistress of all, and the Directours and Confessors are only received and changed by her Order.  Agn. 
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?  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
For my part, I cannot confess the least tyny sin, but that he falls into a Passion. For a thought I accused myself 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?  Ang. 
And dost thou believe me so silly as to declare to him the secret of my heart; for from that, as I conceive him altogether rigid, I only tell him such things as there is no hold to be laid on; he cannot conclude from all that he hears from me, but that I am a Maiden of Prayer and Contemplation, who is not acquainted with all the Motions of a Corrupted Nature, which makes him he dares not question me upon that matter; the severest Penance I have received, is Five Pater Nosters, and the Litanies.  Agn. 
But what dost thou say to him then, for only having broke silence, or drolled upon a Person of the Community, (which is nothing) he will Schooll me for a quarter of an hour  Ang. 
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 begged 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 myself of having troubled the Tranquillity 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 dwelled too long upon the Opperations of the understanding, spending therein the most of my Prayers to the prejudice of my will, which remained by that means dry and barren.  
Of having at another time suffered myself to be engaged in Affection, and exposed thereby to troublesome Distractions, and to a Lazyness of Spirit, contrary to the methodical perfection of the Contemplative.  
Of having kept too much in me, too much of what is belonging to me, without disengaging my heart from all Created things, by a generous Act of suppression of self Love, Interests, Desires and Wills, and of myself.  
Of having made an offering of my heart without having first of all Tranquillized and Pacified it, and freed it from the trouble of the too unruly Passions and disorderly affections.  
Of having suffered myself to be led away by the inclinations of the Old man, and by the proneness of an unrepaired Nature, instead of making a Divorce from all, for the gaining all.  
Of not having been careful to renew myself by a review of myself, in myself, and of making the Reparation in me of what was decayed, etc.  
Well Agnes, Thou mayest judge of the whole piece by this Sample. This is not the third part of my Confession, but the rest renders me no more Criminal than this beginning.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
Good Lord! 'Tis well they had so much Wit and Cunning, to conceal it as they did, and to hinder this job from being blabbed abroad. It came not so much as to the knowledge of the Bishop himself, but when there could no longer any proof be made thereof. It puts me in mind of an Italian-Jesuite, who one day Confessing a young French Gentleman, who had learned the Language of the Country, gave an Exclamation without thinking of it, which made known his weakness. The Penitent accused himself of having spent the night with a young Lady of of one of the Principal Families of Rome, and of having enjoyed her according to his desire; The Good Father looking very wishfully & attentively on the Person who spoke to him, being a handsome youth & well made, forgot himself so far as to the Office he performed, and imagining himself to be in a free Conversation, so transported was he, he asked the young Spark, if she was Beautiful, what Age she was of, and how many times he had done the job with her? The French man making his answer, that he had found her a perfect, exquisite Beauty, that she was but Eighteen years Old, and that he had done it three times. Ah qual gusto Signior, Cried he then pretty loud; that's to say, Ah the delight and pleasure of the enjoyment of such a Creature!  Agn. 
This Sailly was not unpleasant, and very capable of Exciting the heat of a Penitent to the repentance of such a fault.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
For my part, I should find methinks that Occupation pretty Diverting, provided I was allowed to make choice of my Penitent: I should take pleasure in hearing 'em, and my imagination would be notably tickled by the account they should give me of their follies. Which would not be without a great deal of pleasure on my Part.  Ang. 
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 tyre 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 Director 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 herself, were not only useless but likewise vicious and contrary to perfection; he could do no good with her, and was Constrained to abandon her to herself, and leave her in her error.  Agn. 
Methinks however, that she is at present more reasonable; and I remember that once we were obliged to lie 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 wanton to which she excited me, by the Relation of an hundred Stories, the most Smutty and Lascivious imaginable.  Ang. 
I perceive thou knowest not how she was freed out of the error Superstition had plunged her so deep in: her Confessor had no share in her delivery; we may say that it is Devotion itself that has produced this change and that of a Maiden extremely Scrupulous, it has made a Religious altogether reasonable. I am content to tell all I know of this matter, from her own mouth.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
Hear me but, and thou wilt find I have urged 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 rendered 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 extreme 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 pursuit 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 itself to the enjoyment of the Spirit, and the horrible penances wherewith he loaded her 〈…〉 said, means absolutely necessary 〈…〉 which it was impossible for 〈…〉 arrive at that Celestial Jerusa●●● 〈…〉  
〈…〉 not being capable to defend 〈…〉 against these arguments, suffered 〈…〉 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 accompany 〈…〉 with works of supererrogation, and 〈…〉 ●ith all this Clutter, she was still 〈…〉 continual fear of the pains 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 pity 〈…〉 how strangely should. I have 〈…〉 ●●ved with Compassion, had I seen 〈…〉 ●hat error.  
〈…〉 As her amorous 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 Director 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 Director, she practised one with an unequalled regularity; which was, to have recourse to a Picture of St. Alexis, the Mirror of Chastity, which was in her Oratory, and to prostrate herself there,, when she saw herself pressed by temptations, or that she felt in her those movements which she accused herself so often of. Thus one day that she found herself 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 extreme danger she found herself in; related to him with a wonderful candour and simplicity, to how little purpose she had defended herself, and used all her efforts to repress the violent transports she was seized with.  
She accompanied her prayers with Penance and Discipline, which she inflicted in the presence of this well-beloved Pilgrim. But as they tell of him that he was not in the least touched 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 herself with did not move him in any wise to compassion. After having clawed herself off in this manner, she recommended herself anew to this good Roman, and withdrew as one victorious, to go pass her time in Peace in less fatiguing exercises.  Agn. 
Good God What a bustle and hurry does Superstition make in the soul when it has once got possession of it!  Ang. 
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 senses, and her imagination filling itself with a a thousand lascivious Ideas left this Poor Religious half vanquished. In this piteous condition she returned to her Intercessor, redoubled her prayers, and conjured him by all that Devotion can have most sensible to grant her the gift of Continency; her fervency 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 zeal imaginable.  Agn. 
Well but this gave her some ease, did it not?  Ang. 
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. Sparks of fire flew out at her eyes, and without knowing what she suffered, I admired her instability, and at her being in so continual a motion.  Agn. 
But from whence proceeded this?  Ang. 
This was occasioned by the extreme heat she felt over all her Body, and especially in those parts where she had disciplined herself; 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 subtle 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.  Agn. 
Did the conflict last long?  Ang. 
It began and ended in a day; for as soon as Vespers were over, Dosithea, as if she could not directly have addressed herself to God, went to prostrate herself again before her Oratory, Prayed, Wept, Groaned, but all to no purpose. She found herself more pressed than ever, and to insult anew this obstinate Nature, she took her whip in hand, and lifting up her Petticoats 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 failed her for that cruel exercise, nay 〈…〉 not enough left to untie her clothes, 〈…〉 exposed her half naked, she lean 〈…〉 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 ravished he 〈…〉 the very Heavens. In that moment 〈…〉ture uniting all its forces, and Virgi●●● which tell then had been a Captive, d●●●vered itself without any help with an●● petuosity, in leaving there the Keeper 〈…〉 tended upon the floor for an evident token of her Defeat.  Agn. 
O Lord! Oh Lord! I wish I 〈…〉 been by!  Ang. 
Alas! What pleasure could 〈…〉 have been to thee? Thou wouldst 〈…〉 seen that innocent Creature sighing 〈…〉 panting, which she knew not the cause 〈…〉 Thou wouldst have seen her in an testacy, her eyes half dying without Viv●● city or Vigour, yielding to the Laws 〈◊〉 mere Nature, & lose maugre all her 〈◊〉 that Treasure, the keeping whereof had put her to so much pain.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
As soon as Dosithea was recovered from this Rapture, her mind which was before clouded and buried in thick darkness, found itself 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 error, and thus raised herself by her own strength through a surprising 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.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
Thou takest things in a wrong sense; we may rid ourselves of Superstition without falling into Impiety; which was what Dosithea did; she had learned by experience, that it was to the Sovereign Physician, 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 urged that it was Devotion that freed her from her scruples.  
Almost the same thing happened to an Italian Nun, Who after having prostrated herself 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, fat 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 herself 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 virtue, protesting that she would never amuse herself 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.  Agn. 
The truth is that these examples are a sensible proof of what you now say, and that the simplicity of this Nun is unparelleled: The Italian Women however do not pass for fools, they are said to have an infinite deal of Wit, and that few things are capable of puzzling them, and escaping their understanding.  Ang. 
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 always 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, though they have often fancied they had found it out.  Agn. 
But how must we then manage our mind in so universal an Ignorance?  Ang. 
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 yourself to be taken by the eyes, and by the ears, that is to say, by a thousand exterior things, which are often made use of for the seducing our senses, but still preserve our mind free and disengaged, from the silly movings, and childish Maxims, with which the Vulgar is infatuated, who like Brute animals run after all that is 〈◊〉 'em, provided it be gilded with some fine appearance.  Agn. 
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 Wit alone would render thee amiable. Priddee buss me once.  Ang. 
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 myself. Kiss me my little Minion, I love thee more than my own life.  Agn. 
Well, are you satisfied? thou little thinkest that People my see us here.  Ang. 
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?  Agn. 
I believe thou art mad? Does the World kiss after the same manner? What dost thou mean by kissing after the Florentime way?  Ang. 
Come and I'll teach it thee.  Agn. 
Oh! Lord thou sets me all of a Fire! Ah what a Lascivious way hast thou with thee! Prithee stand off; Ah how thou huggest me, thou devourest me!  Ang. 
I must pay and reward myself for the Lessons that I give thee. Now this is the way that persons use in kissing, who really Love one another, by Amorously Launching the tongue between the Lips of the Object one Adores; for my part I find nothing more sweet, and more delicious, when we acquit ourselves of it in due manner, and I never practise it without being Ravished into an Ecstasy, 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 itself Universally into all the most secret parts of myself, which penetrates into the very bottom of my Heart, and which I have right to term, An Abridgement of Sovereign Voluptuousness. But what not a word; what sense doth it raise in thee?  Agn. 
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?  Ang. 
The reason is, that amongst all the Italians, the Ladies of Florence pass for the most Amorous, 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 taste in others. I am amazed that the Abbot and the Mendicant did not teach thee this during my retreat? for they have traveled 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.  Agn. 
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 itself 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.  Ang. 
The Truth is, that the sweet moments, wherein we enjoy that voluptuousness, do so possess us, that we are not capable of withdrawing ourselves by any application of our memory, nor to make an Agenda at that instant of all that passes within ourselves. Yet I do not doubt but the Abbot and the Mendicant have extended their Gallantry 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.  Agn. 
Alas! They know but too much of those matters, for persons consecrated to the Altars and devoted to Continency.  Ang. 
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 knowledge 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 Wills as well as Enlighten their Understandings?  Agn. 
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.  Agn. 
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 Virtue. What canst thou say of the School of Venus, and of that Infamous Philosophy, that has nothing but what's flat and insipid, and all whose poor and silly Reasonings can only persuade 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.  Agn. 
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 pleased me, nor but what I condemned. The Abbot who showed 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.  Ang. 
I know what Book thou meanest; it's as bad (as to manners) as the former, and though the purity of its Style, and its easy Eloquence have something agreeable, 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 Ladies: Or the Seven Satirical 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 sense 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?  Agn. 
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! W●● unknown Meats does it Offer! B●● perceive I am not yet so knowing 〈◊〉 it as thou art.  Ang. 
Alas! my poor Child, the knowledge thou aspirest to, cannot but 〈◊〉 prejudicial to thee? The Pleasure's 〈◊〉 propose to ourselves, aught to be bo●●ded by the Laws, by Nature, and by P●●dence, and all the Maxims 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 inspire Debauchery, and let us not suff●● ourselves to be persuaded by an Eloquence which only flatters us to our Ru●ine, and which only expresses itself well to hurry us the more easily to mischief.  Agn. 
Goodly, Goodly, With your fine Morals forsooth! I find you know how to Gilled the Pill when you please! Not but that I yield 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.  Ang. 
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 remedied by plain Words, 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 Libertinism 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 passed Fables.  
I am no enemy to Sports, and Delights, nor am I wedded to that troublesome Virtue 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.  Agn. 
Ah I am pleased 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 choose '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 aught to be blamed. And men cannot be upbraided with the vices that are born with them, or which only proceed from their Birth.  Ang. 
Thou speakest reason, thou Darling of my Heart, and I cannot express to thee the joy I feel, when that thy Words 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 People's 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 ourselves, 〈◊〉 without making ourselves sick with 〈…〉 infirmities, let us Establish in our 〈…〉 that Spiritual Peace and Tran●●●●●y, which is the Principle of the joy 〈…〉 Beginning of the happiness which 〈…〉 reasonably desire.  Agn. 
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.  Ang. 
Alas! My dear Child, what 〈…〉 thou offer me more to my Satisfaction? I prefer thy Caresses before all th●● Treasures in the World; one sole K●●●● thine Charms me, and puts me in●●●●●pture. But see, yonder is somebody coming, let us part to hinder al●●●●icion they might have of our 〈…〉 and discourse. Buss me, my 〈…〉 Dove.  Agn. 
I will so, and it shall be a sucking Kiss, I mean after the mode of Florence.  Ang. 
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.  Agn. 
Well, this is sufficient for the present. Farewell Angelica, 'tis Sister Cornelia, she's a coming.  Ang. 
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.  
THE END.