class="c3">We pray and pray, but to no purpose,
Those that enjoy our lands, choak our Devotions.
Our poor thin stipends make us arrant dunces.

Diego.

If you live miserably, how shall we do (Master)
That are fed only with the sound of prayers?
We rise and ring the Bells to get good stomachs,
And must be fain to eat the ropes with reverence.

Lop.

When was there a Christning, Diego?

Diego.

Not this ten weeks:
Alas, they have forgot to get children (Master)
The Wars, the Seas, and usurie undoe us,
Takes off our minds, our edges, blunts our plough-shares.
They eat nothing here, but herbs, and get nothing but green sauce:
There are some poor Labourers, that perhaps
Once in seven year, with helping one another,
Produce some few pin'd-Butter-prints, that scarce hold
The christning neither.

Lop.

Your Gallants, they get Honour,
A strange fantastical Birth, to defraud the Vicar,
And the Camp Christens their Issues, or the Curtizans,
'Tis a lewd time.

Die.

They are so hard-hearted here too,
They will not dye, there's nothing got by Burials.

Lop.

Diego, the Air's too pure, they cannot perish.
To have a thin Stipend, and an everlasting Parish,
Lord what a torment 'tis!

Die.

Good sensible Master,
You are allow'd to pray against all weathers,
(Both foul, and fair, as you shall find occasion)
Why not against all airs?

Lop.

That's not i'th' Canons.
I would it had, 'tis out of our way forty pence.

Die.

'Tis strange, they are starv'd too yet they will not die here,
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.

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 been from hence, about some twenty years, sir.

Lea.

Some five and twenty, sir.

Die.

You say most true, Sir,
Just to an hour; 'tis now just five and twenty,
A fine straight timber'd man, and a brave soldier,
He married: let me see,—

Lea.

De Castro's Daughter.

Die.

The very same.

Lea.

Thou art a very Rascal.
De Castro is the Turk to thee, or any thing:
The Mony rubbs 'em into strange remembrances,
For as many Duckets more they would remember Adam.

Lop.

Give me your hand, you are welcome to your country,
Now I remember plainly, manifestly,
As freshly, as if yesterdy I had seen him,
Most heartily welcome: sinfull that I am,
Most sinfull man! why should I lose this Gentleman?
This loving old Companion? we had all one soul, sir,
He dwelt here hard by, at a handsome—

Lea.

Farm sir,
You say most true.

Lop.

Alonzo Tiveria!
Lord, Lord that time should play the treacherous knave thus!
Why, he was the only friend I had in Spain, sir,
I knew your Mother too, a handsome Gentlewoman,
She was married very young: I married 'em:
I do remember now the Maskes and Sports then,
The Fire-works, and the fine delights; good faith, sir,
Now I look in your face, whose eyes are those,