Strangecreatures are these nuns, upon my word;
          Their ways ridiculous and e’en absurd;
          Who, with the sisterhood, has never been,
          Has clearly yet, not perfect torment seen,
          Such service, prithee, never try to gain;
          To do what they require I know is vain;
          One will have soft, and t’other asks for hard: 
          Thou’lt be a fool such ninnies to regard;
          No work thou’lt do, whatever be the want: 
          This cabbages,—­that carrots tells thee plant: 
          Said t’other, fain I’d bring it to the test;
          I’m but a simpleton, it is confessed;
          Yet still a month in place, and thou wilt see;
          How well I with the convent-dames agree. 
          The reason is, my life is in its prime,
          While thou art sunk in years and worn by time,
          I’m proper for their work, and only ask,
          To be admitted to the drudging task. 
          Well, said the former, if resolved to try,
          To their factotum instantly apply;
          Come; let’s away.  Lead on, the other cried;
          I’ve got a thought, which I’ll to you confide:—­
          I’ll seem an idiot, and quite dumb appear.—­
          In that, said Nuto, only persevere,
          And then perhaps the confessor thou’lt find,
          With their factotum carelessly inclined;
          No fears nor dark suspicions of a mute: 
          Thou’lt ev’ry way, my friend, their wishes suit.

          Theplace, as was expected, soon he got;
          And half the grounds to trench, at once his lot: 
          He acted well the nincompoop and fool,
          Yet still was steady to the garden tool;
          The nuns continually would flock around,
          And much amusement in his anticks found.

          Oneday, as sleeping lay our sprightly wight,
          Or feigning sleep, no matter which is right,
          (Boccace pretends the latter was the fact)
          Two nuns (perhaps not two the most exact,)
          Observing him extended on the sward,
          While summer’s heat from air so much debarred;
          That few would venture from the convent-roof,
          Lest, ’gainst the sun, their cheeks should not be proof: 
          Said one, approaching him, let’s take this fool,
          And place him in the garden-house to cool. 
          The lad was handsome, with engaging mien: 
          The nun admired the features she had seen,
          And Cupid raised a wish to be at ease,
          Where she, without restraint, herself might please. 
          What would you, cried the other, with him do? 
          You’ll see, rejoined the first, if we pursue;
          Just what might be expected from the place;
          Christ! said the second (with a cross of grace),
          You would not surely do what is forbid? 
          Suppose increase? it never could be hid;
          Besides, should we be seen, ’twill be the cause,
          Of dire disgrace to break such sacred laws.