XLII

above me, so that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin⁠—(an open one, by good luck)⁠—placed before the altar of the church of Saint Edmund’s. I sneezed repeatedly⁠—groaned⁠—awakened and would have arisen, when the Sacristan and Abbot, full of terror, came running at the noise, surprised, doubtless, and no way pleased to find the man alive, whose heirs they had proposed themselves to be. I asked for wine⁠—they gave me some, but it must have been highly medicated, for I slept yet more deeply than before, and wakened not for many hours. I found my arms swathed down⁠—my feet tied so fast that mine ankles ache at the very remembrance⁠—the place was utterly dark⁠—the oubliette, as I suppose, of their accursed convent, and from the close, stifled, damp smell, I conceive it is also used for a place of sepulture. I had strange thoughts of what had befallen me, when the door of my dungeon creaked, and two villain monks entered. They would have persuaded me I was in purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy