By the belly of Sanct James, what shall we poor devils drink the while?
Lord God! da mihi potum.

Then said the prior of the convent: What should this drunken fellow do here?
let him be carried to prison for troubling the divine service.

Nay, said the monk, the wine service, let us behave ourselves so that it be not troubled; for you yourself, my lord prior, love to drink of the best, and so doth every honest man.

Never yet did a man of worth dislike good wine, it is a monastical apophthegm.

But these responses that you chant here, by G--, are not in season.