A gentleman of my rank to walk the streets In querpo..

Laz. Nay, you are a very rank gentleman, Signor. I am very hungry; they tell me In Sevil here, I look like an eel, [smith With a inan's head; and your neighbour the Here hard by, would have borrow'd me the other day [angle-rod.

To have fish'd with me, because h' had lost his Pach. Oh, happy thou, Lazarillo, being the cause

[lean Of other men's wits, as in thine own! Live And witty still: oppress not thy stomach Too much: gross feeders, great sleepers; great sleepers, fat bodies;

Fat bodies, lean brains! No, Lazarillo;
I will make thee immortal, change thy hu-
manity

Into deity, for I will teach thee
To live upon nothing.

Laz. Faith, signor,

I am immortal then already, or very
Near it, for I do live upon little or nothing.
Belike that is the reason the poets are said
To be immortal; for some of them live
Upon their wits, which is indeed as good
As little or nothing. But, good master, let me
Be mortal still, and let us go to supper.

Puch. Be abstinent; shew not the corrup-
tion of

Thy generation: he that feeds shall die,
Therefore, he that feeds not shall live.
Luz. Ay, but how long

Shall he live? There's the question.

Pach. As long as he

Can without feeding. Didst thou read of the Miraculous maid in Flanders

Laz. No, nor of

Any maid else; for the miracle of virginity
Now-a-days ceases, ere the virgin
Can read virginity!

Pach. She that liv'd three years
Without any other sustenance than
The smell of a rose? [her guts shrunk

Laz. I heard of her, signor; but they say All into lutestrings, and her nether parts Cling'd together like a serpent's tail; so that Tho' she continued a woman still [ster. Above the girdle, beneath yet she was monPach. So are most women, believe it. Laz. Nay all women, signor, That can live only upon the smell of a rose. Pach. No part of the history is fabulous. Laz. I think rather,

No part of the fable is historical.
But for all this, sir, my rebellious stomach
Will not let me be immortal: I will be
As immortal as mortal hunger will suffer.
Put me to a certain stint, sir! allow me
But a red herring a day!

Pach. O, de Dios!

Wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies? Laz. He that eats nothing but a red her ring a-day

Shall ne'er be broiled for the devil's rasher: A pilchard, signor, a sardinal, an olive, That I may be a philosopher first,

And immortal after.

Puch. Patience, Lazarillo!

Let contemplation be thy food awhile: say unto thee,

I

One pease was a soldier's provant a whole day At the destruction of Jerusalem.

Enter Metaldi and Mendoza.

Laz. Ay, an it were any where but at
The destruction of a place, I'll be hang'd.
Met. Signor Pachieco Alasto,
My most ingenious cobler of Sevil,
The bonos noxios to your signory!

Pach. Signor Metaldi de Forgio!

My most famous şinith, and man of metal, I
Return your courtesy ten-fold, and do
Humble iny bonnet beneath the shoe-sole
Of your congie. The like to you,
Signor Mendoza Pediculo de Vermini,
My most exquisite hose-heeler!

Laz. Here's a greeting

Betwixt a cobler, a smith, and a botcher! They all belong to the foot, which makes them stand

So much upon their gentry.

Mend. Signor Lazarillo!

Laz. Ah, signor, sì! Nay, we are all signors Here in Spain, from the jakes-farmer to the grandee,

Or adelantado. This botcher looks [now,
As if he were dough-bak'd; a little butter
And I could eat him like an oaten cake!
His father's diet was new cheese and onions
When he got him: what a scallion-fac'd ras-
cal 'tis ?
[stand
Met. But why, signor Pachieco, do you
So much on the priority, and antiquity
Of your quality (as you call it) in comparison
Of ours?

Mend. Ay; your reason for that.

Pach. Why, thou iron-pated smith, and thou Woollen-witted hose-heeler, hear what I Will speak indifferently, and according To antient writers, of our three professions; And let the upright Lazarillo be Both judge and moderator!

Laz. Still am I The most immortally hungry that may be!

Pach. Suppose thou wilt derive thy pedi

gree,

[father,

Like some of the old heroes (as Hercules, Eneas, Achilles), lineally from The gods, making Saturn thy great-grandAnd Vulcan thy father-Vulcan was a godLaz. He'll make Vulcan your godfather by-and-by. [block-head, Pach. Yet, I say, Saturn was a crabbed And Vulcan a limping horn-head; for Venus his wife [dren:

Was a strumpet, and Mars begat all her chilTherefore, however, thy original [ther", Must of necessity spring from bastardy. FurWhat can shew a more deject spirit in man, than

[feet, To lay his hands under every one's horses' To do him service, as thou dost ?-For thee, I will be brief; thou dost botch, and not mend, Thou art a hider of enormities, Viz. scabs, chilblains, and kib'd heels; Much prone thou art to sects, and heresies, Disturbing state and government; for how

canst thou

Be a sound member in the commonwealth,
That art so subject to stitches in the ankles?
Blush and be silent then, oh, ye mechanicks!
Compare no more with the politick cobler!
For coblers, in old time, have prophesied;
What may they do now then, that have
Every day waxed better and better?
Have we not the length of every man's foot?
Are we not daily menders? Yea, and what
Not horse-menders-
[menders?

[man,

Laz. Nor manners-menders. Pach. But soal-menders: Oh, divine coblers! Do we not, like the wise Spin our own threads (or our wives for us)? Do we not, by our sowing the hide, reap the beef?

Are not we of the gentle-craft, whilst both you Are but crafts-men? You will say, you fear Neither iron nor steel, and what you get is wrought

Out of the fire; I must answer you again tho', All this is but forgery. You may likewise say, A man's a man, that has but a hose on his head:

I must likewise answer, that man is a botcher That has a heel'd hose on his head. To conclude,

There can be no comparison with
The cobler, who is all in all [and ends
In the commonwealth, has his politick eye
On every man's steps that walks, and whose
course shall

Be lasting to the world's end.,
Met. I give place:

The wit of man is wonderful! Thou [thee
Hast hit the nail on the head, and I will give
Six pots for't, tho' I ne'er clinch shoe again.
Enter Vitelli and Alguazier.

Pach. Who's this? Oh, our Alguazier; as
arrant a knave

As e'er wore one head under two offices;
He is one side Alguazier.

Met. The other side Serjeant. Mend. That's both sides carrion, I am sure. Pach. This is he [and lodges 'em Apprehends whores in the way of justice, In his own house, in the way of profit. He with him

Is the grand don Vitelli, 'twixt whom and
Fernando Alvarez the mortal hatred is:
He is indeed my don's bawd, and does
At this present lodge a famous courtezan
Of his, lately come from Madrid.

[ask:

Vit. Let her want nothing, signor, she can What loss or injury you may sustain I will repair, and recompense your love: Only that fellow's coming I mislike, And did fore-warn her of him. Bear her this, With my best love; at night I'll visit her. Alg. I rest your lordship's servant! Vit. Good ev'n, signors![thee Oh, Alvarez, thou hast brought a son with Both brightens and obscures our nation, Whose pure strong beams on us shoot like

the sun's

On baser fires. I would to Heav'n my blood
Had never stain'd thy bold unfortunate hand,
That with mine honour I might emulate,
Not persecute such virtue! I will see him,
Tho' with the hazard of my life; no rest
In my contentious spirits can I find
'Till I have gratified him in like kind. [Exit.
Alg. I know ye not! what are ye? Hence,
ye base besognios12!

Pach. Marry, Cazzo! Signor Alguazier, d'you not know us?

Why, we are your honest neighbours,

The cobler, smith, and botcher, that have so often

Sympson.

R.

Sat

Laz. Are not you

A Portuguese born, descended o' the Moors,
And came hither into Sevil with your master,
An arrant tailor, in your red bonnet,
And your blue jacket lousy; tho' now
Your block-head be cover'd with the Spanish
block,

And your lashed shoulders with a velvet-pee.
Pach. Are not you he that have been of
thirty callings,
[first,
Yet ne'er a one lawful? that being a chandler
Profess'd sincerity, and would sell no man
Mustard to his beef on the Sabbath, and yet
Hypocrisy all your life-time?

[sold Met. Are not you he, that were since A surgeon to the stews, and undertook To cure, what the church itself could not, strumpets?

That rise to your office by being a great don's bawd?

Laz. That commit men nightly, offenceless, for the gain

Of a groat a prisoner, which your beadle seems To put up, when you share three-pence?

Mend. Are not you he

That is a kisser of men, in drunkenness,
And a betrayer in sobriety?

Alg. Diabolo! They'll rail me into the Again.

[gallies

Pach. Yes, signor, thou art even he We speak of all this while. Thou mayst, by thy place now,

Lay us by the heels, 'tis true; but take heed; Be wiser, pluck not ruin on thine own head; For never was there such an anatomy, [fore, As we shall make thee then; be wise thereOh, thou child of the night! Be friends, and shake hands. [redder:

Thou art a proper man, if thy beard were

Remember thy worshipful function,

A constable; tho' thou turn'st day into night,
And night into day, what of that? Watch less,
And pray more: gird thy bear-skin (viz. thy
rug-gown)
[go

To thy loins; take thy staff in thy hand, and
Forth at midnight13; let not thy mittens abate
The talons of thy authority14, but gripe
Theft and whoredom, wheresoever thou
meet'st 'em;
[safely
Bear em away like a tempest, and lodge 'em
In thine own house.

Laz. Would you have whores and thieves Lodg'd in such a house?

Pach. They ever do so;

I have found a thief or a whore there, [me.
When the whole suburbs could not furnish
Luz. But why do they lodge there?
Pach. That they may be

[usually, Safe and forth-coming; for in the morning The thief is sent to the gaol, and the whore prostrates

Herself to the justice.

Mend. Admirable Pachieco!

Met. Thou cobler of Christendom!

Alg. There is no railing with these rogues: I will close with 'em, 'till I can cry quittance. Why, signors, and my honest neighbours, will ye [is

Impute that as a neglect of my friends, which
An imperfection in me? I have been
Sand-blind from my infancy; to make you
You shall sup with me.
[amends
Laz. Shall we sup with ye, sir? [tleman
O'my conscience, they have wrong'd the gen-
Extremely.

Alg. And after supper, I have

A project to employ you in, shall make you
Drink and eat merrily this month. I am
A little knavish; why, and do not I know all
You to be knaves?

Pach. I grant you, we are all Knaves, and will be your knaves; but oh, while you live,

Take heed of being a proud knave!

Alg. On then, pass;

[bear out me. I will bear out my staff, and my staff shall Laz. Oh, Lazarillo, thou art going to sup[Exeunt.

per!

I will

I will have a baby o'clouts made for it, like A great girl! Nay, if you will needs be starch

ing

Of ruffs, and sowing of black-work, I will
Of a mild and loving tutor, become a tyrant:
Your father has committed you to my charge,
And I will make a man or a mouse on you.
Lucio. What would you have me do? This
scurvy sword
[Pish! look,
So galls my thigh, I would it were burnt!-
This cloak will ne'er keep on; these boots too
hide-bound,

Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen,
And my spurs jingle like a morris-dancer:
Lord, how my head aches with this roguish
This masculine attire is most uneasy; [hat!
I'm bound up in it; I had rather walk
In folio again, loose, like a woman.

[parents!

Bob. In foolio, had you not? Thou mock to Heav'n, and Nature, and thy Thou tender leg of lamb! Oh, how he walks As if he had bepiss'd himself, and fleers! Is this a gait for the young cavalier, Don Lucio, son and heir to Alvarez? Has it a corn? or does it walk on conscience, It treads so gingerly? Come on your ways! Suppose me now your father's foe, Vitelli, And spying you i'th' street, thus I advance: I twist my beard, and then I draw my sword. Lucio. Alas!

Bob. And thus accost thee: Traiterous brat, How durst thou thus confront me? impious twig

Of that old stock, dew'd with my kinsman's

Lucio. Why then,

I'll have the kennel: what a coil you keep? Signor, what happen'd 'twixt my sire and your Kinsman, was long before I saw the world; No fault of mine, nor will I justify

My father's crimes: forget, sir, and forgive, 'Tis Christianity. I pray put up your sword; I'll give you any satisfaction,

That may become a gentleman. However,
I hope you're bred to more humanity,
Than to revenge my father's wrong on me,
That crave your love and peace. Law-you-
now, Zancho,

Would not this quiet him, were he tenVitellis? Bob. Oh, craven-chicken of a cock o' th' game!

Well, what remedy? Did thy father see this,
O' my conscience, he would cut off thy mas-
culine
Gender, crop

thine ears, beat out thine eyes,

And set thee in one of the pear-trees for a scare-crow!

As I am Vitelli, I am satisfied;

But as I am Bobadilla Spindola Zancho,
Steward of the house, and thy father's servant,
I could find in my heart to lop off
The hinder part of thy face, or to
Beat all thy teeth into thy mouth! Oh, thou
Whey-blooded milksop, I'll wait upon thee
no longer;
[ways, sir;
Thou shalt ev'n wait
Come your
I shall take a little pains with you else.

me. upon

Enter Clara.

Claru. Where art thou, brother Lucio?Ran, tan tan ta,

Ran tan ran tan tan ta, ta ran tan tan tan! Oh, I shall no more see those golden days! These cloaths will never fadge with me: a pox O' this filthy fardingale, this hip-hape!Brother,

fin'd,

Why are women's haunches only limited, conHoop'd in as 'twere, with these same scurvy vardingales? [most subject Bob. Because women's haunches only are To display and fly out.

Clara. Bobadilla, rogue, ten ducats,
I hit the prepuce of thy cod-piece!
Lucio. Hold,

If you love my life, sister! I am not
Zancho Bobadilla; I am your brother, Lucio.
What a fright you have put me in!

Clara. Brother? and wherefore thus?
Lucio. Why, master steward here, signor
Zancho,
[use me,
Made me change: he does nothing but mis-
And call me coward, and swears I shall
Wait upon him.

Bob. Well! I do no more [away tho'! Than I have authority for.-'Would I were For she's as much too manish, as he Too womanish: I dare not meddle with her; Yet I must set a good face on it, if I had it.— I have like charge of you, madam; I Am as well to mollify you, as to Qualify him. What have you to do with Armors, and pistols, and javelins, and swords, And such tools? Remember, mistress, Nature Hath given you a sheath only, to signify Women are to put up men's weapons, not To draw them!—Look you now, is this a fit Trot for a gentlewoman? You shall see The court-ladies move like goddesses, as if They trod air; they will swim you their