ubject to dying Suddenly after Supper; and so, Willy-nilly, I
sped upon my Dark Errand.

Business now took me to Venice. This is a very grand City, both for the
Magnificence of its Nobles and the Extent of its Commerce. The Doge is
only a Sumptuous kind of Puppet, the Real Government being vested in the
Seignory, or Council of Ten, that carry matters with a very High Hand,
but, on the whole, give Satisfaction both to the Quality and the Common.
Here are numbers of Priests of a very Free Life and Conversation, and
swarms of Monks that are notorious Evil-doers; for during the Carnival
(a very famous one here) they wear Masks, sing upon Stages, and fall
into many other Practices unbecoming their Profession. The Venetian Nuns
are the merriest in all Europe, and have a not much better Repute than
the Monks, many of them being the Daughters of the Nobility, who dispose
of 'em in this manner to save the Charges of keeping 'em at home. They
wear no Veils; have their Necks uncovered; and receive the Addresses of
Suitors at the Grates of their Parlours. The Patriarch did indeed at one
time essay to Reform the abuses that had crept into the Nunneries; but
the Ladies of San Giacomo, with whom he began, told him plainly that
they were Noble Venetians, and scorned his Regulations. Thereupon he
attempted to shut up their House, which so provoked 'em that they were
going to set Fire to it; but the Senate interposing, commanded the
Patriarch to desist, and these Merry Maidens had full liberty to resume
their Madcap Pranks.

Here they make excellent fine Drinking-glasses and Mirrors; likewise
Gold and Silver Stuffs, Turpentine, Cream of Tartar, and other articles.
The Streets mostly with Water running thro' 'em, like unto Rotterdam,
all going to and fro done in Boats called Gondoles,--a dismal,
Hearse-looking kind of Wherry, with a prow like the head of a Bass-Viol,
and rowed, or rather shoved along with a Pole by a Mad, Ragged Fellow,
that bawls out verses from Tasso, one of their Poets, as he plies his
Oar. The great Sight at Venice, after the Grand Canal and St. Mark's
Place, is the Carnival, which begins on Twelfth Day, and holds all Lent.
The Diversion of the Venetians is now all for Masquerading. Under a
Disguise, they break through their Natural Gravity, and fall heartily
into all the Follies and Extravagances of these occasions. With Operas,
Plays, and Gaming-Houses, they seem to forget all Habits, Customs, and
Laws; lay aside a