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

not acquainted with. I laid hold of that opportunity, telling them that I owned it was a presumption in me to offer them anything there, but that I desired them to accept of a parcel of rich silks sent me from Milan, which that page of mine should carry them at night, pointing to one that stood over the way bareheaded, waiting for his master, who was in a shop. And that they might take me for some man of quality, and well known, I pulled off my hat to all the judges, privy-counsellors and gentry that went by, bowing as if we had been very well acquainted, though I knew none of them. These outward shows, and my taking a piece of gold of my hidden treasure, on pretence of giving an alms to a poor body that begged of me, made them conclude I was some gentleman of note. They made as if to go home because it grew late, and took their leave, charging me to be sure the page should go as privately as might be. I begged of them, but as a favour and token of their good will, a pair of beads, all set and linked in gold, which the handsomest of them had in her hand, as a pledge for me to visit them the next day without fail. They made some difficulty to part with it, till I offered them a hundred crowns in pawn for it, which they refused, hoping by that means to draw me in for a better penny, asked where I lodged, and told me their quarters, desiring me to observe that they could not receive messages at all times, because they were persons of quality. I led them through the High Street, and before we turned out of it made choice of the largest and fairest house I could, which had a coach without horses standing at the door, telling them it was mine, and at their service, as were the horses and master of them. My name, I told them, was Don Álvaro de Córdova, and in I went by the gate right before their faces. At our coming out of the shop, I remember, I called over one of the pages from the other side of the way, beckoning to him very stately with my hand, and pretending to order him and the rest of them to wait there till I came, but in reality only asked whether he did not belong to my uncle the Commander; he answered me he did not, and so I dismissed him, setting myself off with borrowed feathers.

When it was dark night we all went home, and, coming in, I found the counterfeit soldier, that had the clouted leg, with a white wax flambeau they had given him to attend a funeral, and he run away with it. This fellow’s name was Magazo, born at Olias; he had been captain in a play, and had fought abundance of Moors in a sword-dance. When he talked with any that had served in the Low Countries, he told them he had been in China; and if he happened to meet with any that had been there, he pretended he had served in Flanders. He talked much of encamping, and lying out in the field, though he had never been in any unless it were to louse himself; named abundance of strongholds, and knew none but the common gaols; highly extolled the memory of Don John of Austria, commended the Duke of Alva for a generous, true friend, and had abundance of names of noted Turks, galleys, and great officers at his fingers’ ends, all which he had picked out of a ballad then in vogue concerning the like affairs. But being altogether unacquainted with geography or anything of the sea, discoursing about the famous battle of Lepanto, he said that Lepanto was a very brave Turk. The poor wretch was so ignorant that he served to make us excellent sport.

Soon after in came my companion with his nose beaten almost flat to his face, all his head wrapped up in clouts very bloody and dirty. We asked him how he came into that pickle? He told us he went to the alms at the Monastery of St. Jerome, and asked for a double portion, pretending it was for some poor people that could not beg; the friars stopped so much from the common mumpers to give it him, that they, being provoked, tracked him, and found he was sucking it up with might and main in a dark corner behind a door. They fell into a dispute whether it was lawful to cheat to fill one’s own belly, and to rob others to serve one’s self. The contest rose to high words, which were followed with blows, and those raised many knobs and bumps on his head. They attacked him with the pots they received the pottage in, and the damage done to his nose came by a wooden dish they gave him to smell to, more hastily than had been convenient. They took away his sword; out came the porter at the noise, and had enough to do to part them. In short, our poor brother found himself in so much danger that he offered to return all he had eaten, and it would not serve his turn; for they insisted that he begged for others, and had no feeling of his trade. Out started from among the rest of the gang a two-handed mendicant scholar, crying, “Do but behold the figure made up of clouts like a rag baby, as poor as a pastrycook in Lent, as full of holes as a flageolet, all patches like a magpie, as greasy as an oilman, and as tattered as an old flag! Pitiful scoundrel, there are those that receive the holy saints’ alms that are fit to be bishops, or for any other dignity; I myself am a graduate of Siguenza.” The