Leandro paid all.

      'Tis his usual custom,

      And requisite he should: he has now put off

      The Funeral black, (your rich heir wears with joy,

      When he pretends to weep for his dead Father)

      Your gathering Sires, so long heap muck together,

      That their kind Sons, to rid them of their care,

      Wish them in Heaven; or if they take a taste

      Of Purgatory by the way, it matters not,

      Provided they remove hence; what is befaln

      To his Father, in the other world, I ask not;

      I am sure his prayer is heard: would I could use one

      For mine, in the same method.

      Fie upon thee.

      This is prophane.

      Good Doctor, do not school me

      For a fault you are not free from: On my life

      Were all Heirs in Corduba, put to their Oaths,

      They would confess with me, 'tis a sound Tenet:

      I am sure Leandro do's.

      He is th'owner

      Of a fair Estate.

      And fairly he deserves it,

      He's a Royal Fellow: yet observes a mean

      In all his courses, careful too on whom

      He showers his bounties: he that's liberal

      To all alike, may do a good by chance,

      But never out of Judgment: This invites

      The prime men of the City to frequent

      All places he resorts to, and are happy

      In his sweet Converse.

      Don Jamie the Brother

      To the Grandee Don Henrique, appears much taken

      With his behaviour.

      There is something more in't:

      He needs his Purse, and knows how to make use on't.

      'Tis now in fashion for your Don, that's poor,

      To vow all Leagues of friendship with a Merchant

      That can supply his wants, and howsoe're

      Don Jamie's noble born, his elder Brother

      Don Henrique rich, and his Revenues long since

      Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy Heir

      Call'd, Madam Vi[o]lante, he yet holds

      A hard hand o're Jamie, allowing him

      A bare annuity only.

      Yet 'tis said

      He hath no child, and by the Laws of Spain

      If he die without issue, Don Jamie

      Inherits his Estate.

      Why that's the reason

      Of their so many jarrs: though the young Lord

      Be sick of the elder Brother, and in reason

      Should flatter, and observe him, he's of a nature

      Too bold and fierce, to stoop so, but bears up,

      Presuming on his hopes.

      What's the young Lad

      That all of 'em make so much of?

      'Tis a sweet one,

      And the best condition'd youth, I ever saw yet,

      So humble, and so affable, that he wins

      The love of all that know him, and so modest,

      That (in despight of poverty) he would starve

      Rather than ask a courtesie: He's the Son

      Of a poor cast-Captain, one Octavio;

      And She, that once was call'd th'fair Jacinta,

      Is happy in being his Mother: for his sake,

      (Though in their Fortunes faln) they are esteem'd of,

      And cherish'd by the best. O here they come.

      I now may spare his Character, but observe him,

      He'l justifie my report.

      My good Ascanio,

      Repair more often to me: above Women

      Thou ever shalt be welcome.

      My Lord your favours

      May quickly teach a raw untutour'd Youth

      To be both rude and sawcy.

      You