(He throws down his staff and shields his taper with his gown.) Blow! blow! blow!
Here's a monk's soul borne to the Virgin's arms
Across a strip of Hell. D'you want to leap
Out of this greasy world? Out with you, then!
Here's a fine night to jump in, wind and moon,
Roar and the scud of swollen water-bags.
Jump, jump, soul! Swounds, here's a coward for you;
Here's a tallow-swad that loves swine's belly
Better'n the big deep. Shrift, eh? shrift and housel?
Primum confessum, foul monk. Gluttony. (The taper flickers.)
Yip! See the devils pluck at him! Quick, priest;
St. Giles will lose a lamb. If I damn one,
I damn them all; damn the Abbot; damn Andrew.
Flesh is flesh. Absolvo te. Secundum.
Bibbing, eh? Vap or burgundy? Vap?
That's a vile sin; but vap is hell enough.
Quid tertio? (He puts his ear to the taper.)
St! lower; the Devil's listening. (Starting.)
Whee! Bless the saints! God must have gold for that.
No gold? No gold, no shrift. And here's old Claw-foot
Coming through the dark, that needs a furnace tender,
A skimmer for his bullion pots. Gramercy, monk.
No wench-craft there nor bibbing, soft bells and venison.
Limbs hot, hot lungs, hot belly, everything—
(The taper goes out.) Puff!
Down over the big, windy world. Good jump;
Clean to the pit. (Thunder.)
Ay, night, smack your black chaps.
Rumble! rumble!
(He feels about the ground for his staff, and, having found it, walks back and stands under one of the windows of the dormitory.) Soloman! Soloman!
The Devil wants you. D'you hear? His pipe's gone out.
Give him a coal.
(He waits a while, then beats upon the shutter with his staff. A low voice is heard within.)
What's that? Eh?
Voice— Who is it?
Lucifer?
Andrew—Ay, with his light out.
(After a pause.) Come, come!
I'll have to cut a reed and suck the stars
Like the big fool you told of.
(The shutter opens and the head of Soloman appears.)
Light, light, man! (Soloman whispers.)
Pipe out, cricket. Here's the big noisy winds
Roarin' in my ears. (Soloman whispers and points to the corner.)
Prowling? A night like this!
Turned wolf, eh? There's a fine porker gone.
Louis and he were at their wassail cups,
Nuzzling a stoup o' hipo' a while ago. (He comes toward the corner.)
God bless you, senechal, another stoup.
Swine-herd, all-hail! Fill up the Abbot's trough.
An he breaks sty, look out! God bless us then!
Water and bread, water and bread. Zooks, zooks!
The devil's up with Andrew if he finds
The oratory dark. (He listens.) Otho! Spot! Hya! Hya!
There's something snooping here. (He crosses himself.) I'll get a light
And bustle from this place. It's the Devil
Walking on wool. (He turns back toward the window.)
Water and bread. Sfoot, sfoot!
The sheep will find thin food on Andrew's grave.
Light, man, light! It's the bats hurtling.
(Soloman disappears.) There's a chinch
That burrows in the vellum like a mole,
A parchment moth what can spin yarn or yarn
Like the old dame i' the tale. He reads and reads.
He's got a wit strung like a rosary thread
With tales and names and things and things and things.
Tell me a tale, says I, something valorous,
Something to lighten life for an old man.
Tales for tapers, says he. A go, says I.
And so I pilfers from the chapel sconce
The snuffed stubbs. To lighten life, says I.