The Spanish Curate: A Comedy. Beaumont Francis
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Название: The Spanish Curate: A Comedy
Автор: Beaumont Francis
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Драматургия
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They will not earth: a good stout plague amongst 'em,
Or half a dozen new fantastical Fevers
That would turn up their heels by whole-sale (Master)
And take the Doctors too, in their grave Counsels,
That there might be no natural help for mony:
How merrily would my Bells goe then?
Lop. Peace Diego,
The Doctors are our friends, let's please them well.
For though they kill but slow, they are certain, Diego,
We must remove into a muddy Air,
A most contagious Climate.
Die.
We must certain,
An air that is the nursery of agues,
Such agues (Master) that will shake mens souls out,
Ne're stay for Possets, nor good old wives plasters.
Lop.
Gowts and dead Palsies.
Die.
The dead do's well at all times,
Yet Gowts will hang an arse a long time (Master)
The Pox, or English Surfeits if we had 'em;
Those are rich marle, they make a Church-yard fat,
And make the Sexton sing, they never miss, Sir.
Lop.
Then Wills and Funeral Sermons come in season,
And Feasts that make us frolick.
Die.
Would I could see 'em.
Lop.
And though I weep i'th' Pulpit for my Brother,
Yet (Diego) here I laugh.
Die.
The cause requires it.
Lop.
Since people left to die I am dunce, Diego.
Die. 'Tis a strange thing, I have forgot to dig too.
Lea.
A pretious pair of youths! I must make toward'em.
Lop.
Who's that? look it seems he would speak to us.
I hope a Marriage, or some Will to make, Diego.
Die.
My friend your business?
Lea.
'Tis to that grave Gentleman;
Bless your good learning, Sir.
Lop.
And bless you also,
He bears a promising face, there's some hope toward.
Lea.
I 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.
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