The Spanish Curate: A Comedy. Beaumont Francis

The Spanish Curate: A Comedy - Beaumont Francis


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have a Letter to your worship.

      Lop.

      Well Sir,

      From whence I pray you?

      Lea.

      From Nova Hispania, Sir,

      And from an ancient friend of yours.

      Lop.

      'Tis well, Sir,

      'Tis very well: the devil a-one I know there.

      Die.

      Take heed of a Snap, Sir, h'as a cozening countenance

      do not like his way.

      Lop.

      Let him goe forward.

      Cantabit vacuus, They that have nothing fear nothing,

      All I have to lose, Diego, is my learning,

      And when he has gotten that, he may put it in a Nut shell.

      LETTER READ.

      Signior Lopez, Since my arrival from Cordova to these parts, I have written divers Letters unto you, but as yet received no Answer of any (Good and very good) And although so great a forgetfulness might cause a want in my due correspondence, yet the desire I have still to serve you must more prevail with me (Better and better: the devil a man know I yet) and therefore with the present occasion offered I am willing to crave a continuance of the favours, which I have heretofore received from you, and do recommend my Son Leandro the Bearer to you with request that he may be admitted in that Universitie till such time as I shall arrive at home; his studies he will make you acquainted withall; This kindness shall supply the want of your slackness: And so heaven keep you.

      Yours

      Alonzo Tiveria.

      Alonzo Tiveria, very well,

      A very ancient friend of mine, I take it,

      For till this hour I never heard his name yet.

      Lea.

      You look, Sir, as if ye had forgot my Father.

      Lop.

      No, no, I look, as I would remember him,

      For that I never remembred, I cannot forget, Sir,

      Alonzo Tiveria?

      Lea.

      The same, Sir.

      Lop.

      And now i'th' Indies?

      Lea.

      Yes.

      Lop.

      He may be any where,

      For ought that I consider.

      Lea.

      Think again, Sir,

      You were Students both at one time in Salamanca,

      And, as I take it, Chamber-fellows.

      Lop.

      Ha?

      Lea.

      Nay, sure you must remember.

      Lop.

      Would I could.

      Lea.

      I have heard him say, you were Gossips too.

      Lop.

      Very likely,

      You did not hear him say, to whom? for we Students

      May oft-times over-reach our memories.

      Do'st thou remember, Diego, this same Signiour?

      Thou hast been mine these twenty years.

      Die.

      Remember?

      Why this Fellow would make ye mad: Nova Hispania?

      And Signiour Tiveria? what are these?

      He may as well name ye Friends out of Cataya.

      Take heed I beseech your worship: do you hear, (my friend?)

      You have no Letters for me?

      Lea.

      Not any letter,

      But I was charged to doe my Fathers love

      To the old honest Sexton Diego: are you he, Sir?

      Di[e].

      Ha? have I friends, and know 'em not? my name is Diego,

      But if either I remember you or your Father,

      Or Nova Hispania (I was never there Sir)

      Or any kindred that you have—for heaven-sake, Master,

      Let's cast about a little, and consider,

      We may dream out our time.

      Lea.

      It seems I am deceiv'd, Sir,

      Yet, that you are Don Lopez all men tell me,

      The Curate here, and have been some time, Sir,

      And you the Sexton Diego, such I am sent to,

      The letter tells as much: may be they are dead,

      And you of the like names succeed: I thank ye Gentlemen,

      Ye have done honestly, in telling truth,

      I might have been forward else. For to that Lopez,

      That was my Fathers friend, I had a charge,

      (A charge of mony) to deliver (Gentlemen)

      Five hundred Duckets, a poor small gratuity,

      But since you are not he—

      Lop.

      Good Sir, let me think,

      I pray ye be patient,

      Pray ye stay a little,

      Nay, let me remember, I beseech ye stay, Sir.

      Die.

      An honest noble friend, that sends so lovingly;

      An old friend too; I shall remember sure, Sir.

      Lop.

      Thou sayst true Diego.

      Die.

      'Pray ye consider quickly,

      Doe, doe, by any means, me thinks already

      A grave staid gentleman comes to my memory.

      Lea.

      He's old indeed, sir.

      Die.

      With a goodly white Beard,

      (For now he must be so: I know he must be)

      Signior Alonzo, Master.

      Lop.

      I begin to have him.

      Die.

      H'as


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