“So to begin, there’s a village not far from here called Varlungo, as every one of you knows or will have heard from other people. I had once a valiant priest, a fine figure of a man who served the ladies well. He was not much of a reader, but every Sunday he would spout wholesome holy verbiage beneath the churchyard elm to refresh the spirits of his parishioners. When the men were off somewhere, he would come visiting their wives more solicitously than any priest they’d ever had before. Sometimes bringing religious bits and pieces, holy water or candle-ends into their houses, and giving them his blessings.”
Giovanni Boccaccio, “Decameron”.
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