Pablo de Segovia, the Spanish Sharper by Francisco de Quevedo (e book reading free TXT) 📕

told me it was lucky that I came at such a time, for I should have a good dinner, because he had invited some friends. As we were talking, in came one of those that beg money at the church-doors for the release of souls, in a purple gown down to his heels, and rattling his questing box, said, “I have got as much today by my souls as you have done by the rogues you flogged.” They made grimaces at one another; the wicked soul-broker tucked up his long robe, discovering a pair of bandy legs and canvas breeches, and began to shift about, asking whether Clement was come? My uncle told him he was not, when at the same time in came an acorn thresher⁠—I mean a swineherd, wrapped up in a clout, with a pair of wooden shoes on. I knew him by his horn he had in his hand, which had been more fashionable had it been upon his head. He saluted us after his manner, and next to him in came a left-handed squinting mulatto, with a hat that had brims like an umbrella and a crown like a sugar-loaf; his sword with more guards about it than at the king’s hunting; a buff-doublet; and a face as full of scars as if it had been made of patches stitched together. He sat down, saluting all the company, and said to my uncle, “By my troth, Alonso, Flat Nose and the Nailer have been well mauled today.” Up started he of the souls, and cried “I gave Flechilla, the hangman of Ocana, four ducats, to put on the ass apace and play with a slender cat-of-nine-tails, when I was fly-flapp’d there.” “By the Lord,” quoth the mulatto, “I was too kind to the dog Lobrezno at Murcia, for the ass went a snail’s gallop all the way, and the rogue laid them on so, that my back was all weals.” “My back is virgin still,” said the swineherd. “To every hog comes his Martinmas,” answered the beggar.16 “I must say that for myself,” quoth my good uncle, “that of all whipsters I am the man, who am true and trusty to these that bespeak me; these today gave me five crowns, and they had a parcel of friendly lashes with the single cat-of-nine-tails.” I was so much out of countenance to see what good company my uncle kept, that my blushes betrayed me, and the mulatto perceiving it, said, “Is this reverend gentleman the person that suffered the other day, and had a certain number of stripes given him?” I answered, “I was none of those that suffered as they had done.” With this my uncle started up, and said, “This is my nephew, a graduate at Alcalá, and a great scholar.” They begged my pardon, and made tenders of great friendship.

I was quite mad to eat my dinner, receive what was due, and get as far as I could from my uncle. The cloth was laid, and the meat drawn up in an old hat, as they draw up the alms that is given in prisons. It was dished up in broken platters, and pieces of old crocks and pans, being dressed in a stinking cellar, which was still more plague and confusion to me. They sat down, the beggar at the upper end, and the rest as it fell out. I will not tell what we ate, but only that they were all dainties to encourage drinking. The mulatto, in a trice, poured down three pints of pure red. The swineherd seeing the cup stand at me, still whipt it off, pledging more healths than we spoke words; no man called for water, or so much as thought of it. Five good meat pasties were served up; they raised the crusts, and taking a holy-water sprinkler, said a short prayer for the soul to whom the flesh belonged. Then said my uncle, “You remember, nephew, what I wrote to you about your father; it now comes afresh into my mind.” They all ate, but I took up only with the bottoms, and ever since then I have retained the custom of saying a prayer for the soul departed when I eat meat pies. The pots went round without ceasing, and the mulatto and the beggar plied it so hard, that a dish of scurvy sausages, looking like fingers of blacks cut off, being set upon the table, one of them asked what they meant by serving up dressed charcoal? My uncle by this time was in such a condition, up to the throat in wine, with one eye almost out and the other half drowned, that laying hold of one of the sausages, in a hoarse and broken voice, he said, “By this bread, which is God’s creature, made to his own image and likeness, I never ate better black meat, nephew.” It made me laugh with one side of my mouth, and fret with the other, to see the mulatto, stretching out his hand, lay hold of the salt-dish, and cry, “This pottage is hot;” and at the same time the swineherd took a whole handful of salt, and clapping it into his mouth, said, “This is a pretty provocative for drinking.” After all this medley there came some soup, so orderly was our entertainment. The beggar laying hold of a porringer with both hands, cried, “God’s blessing on cleanliness;” and instead of clapping of it to his mouth, laid it to his cheek, where he poured it down, scalding his face and washing himself in grease from head to foot, in a most shameful manner. Being in this miserable plight, he tried to get up, but his head being too heavy, he was fain to rest with both his hands upon the table, which was only a board set upon two tressels, so that it overturned and begrimed all the rest; and then he cried that the swineherd