The Spanish Curate: A Comedy

The principal Actors were,

Joseph Taylor. } {William Eglestone.

John Lowin. } {Thomas Polard.

Nicholas Toolie.} {Robert Benfeild.

Actus primus. Scena prima.

Enter Angelo, Milanes, and Arsenio.

Arsenio.
Leandro paid all.

Mil.

'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.

Ars.

Fie upon thee.

This is prophane.

Mil.

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.

Ars.

He is th'owner

Of a fair Estate.

Mil.

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.

Ars.

Don Jamie the Brother

To the Grandee Don Henrique, appears much taken

With his behaviour.

Mil.

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.

Ars.

Yet 'tis said

He hath no child, and by the Laws of Spain

If he die without issue, Don Jamie

Inherits his Estate.

Mil.

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.

Ars.

What's the young Lad

That all of 'em make so much of?

Mil.

'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,

Enter Jamie, Leandro, and Ascanio.

(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.

Jam.

My good Ascanio,

Repair more often to me: above Women

Thou ever shalt be welcome.

Asc.

My Lord your favours

May quickly teach a raw untutour'd Youth

To be both rude and sawcy.

Lean.

You cannot be

Too frequent where you are so much desir'd:

And give me leave (dear friend) to be your Rival

In part of his affection; I will buy it

At any rate.

Jam.

Stood I but now possess'd

Of what my future hope presages to me,

I then would make it clear thou hadst a Patron

That would not say but do: yet as I am,

Be mine, I'le not receive thee as a servant,

But as my Son, (and though I want my self)

No Page attending in the Court of Spain

Shall find a kinder master.

Asc.

I beseech you

That my refusal of so great an offer

May make no ill construction, 'tis not pride

(That common vice is far from my condition)

That makes you a denyal to receive

A favour I should sue for: nor the fashion

Which the Country follows, in which to be a servant

In those that groan beneath the heavy weight

Of poverty, is held an argument

Of a base abject mind, I wish my years

Were fit to do you service in a nature

That might become a Gentleman (give me leave

To think my self one) My Father serv'd the King

As a Captain in the field; and though his fortune

Return'd him home a poor man, he was rich

In Reputation, and wounds fairly taken.

Nor am I by his ill success deterr'd,

I rather feel a strong desire that sways me

To follow his profession, and if Heaven

Hath mark'd me out to be a man, how proud,

In the service of my Country, should I be,

To trail a Pike under your brave command!

There, I would follow you as a guide to honour,

Though all the horrours of the War made up

To stop my passage.

Jam.

Thou art a hopeful Boy,

And it was bravely spoken: For this answer,

I love thee more than ever.

Mil.

Pity such seeds

Of promising courage should not grow and prosper.

Ang.

What ever his reputed Parents be,

He hath a mind that speaks him right and noble.

Lean.

You make him blush; it needs not sweet Ascanio,

We may hear praises when they are deserv'd,

Our modesty unwounded. By my life

I would add something to the building up

So fair a mind, and if till you are fit

To bear Arms in the Field, you'l spend some years

In Salamanca, I'le supply your studies

With all conveniences.

Asc.

Your goodness (Signiors)

And charitable favours overwhelm me.

If I were of your blood, you could not be

More tender of me: what then can I pay

(A poor Boy and a stranger) but a heart

Bound to your service? with what willingness

I would receive (good Sir) your noble offer,

Heaven can bear witness for me: but alas,

Should I embrace the means to raise my fortunes,

I must destroy the lives of my poor Parents

(To who[m] I ow my being) they in me

Place all their comforts, and (as if I were

The light of their dim eyes) are so indulgent

They cannot brook one short dayes absence from me;

And (what will hardly win belief) though young,

I am their Steward and their Nurse: the bounties

Which others bestow on me serves to sustain 'em,

And to forsake them in their age, in me

Were more than Murther.

Enter Henrique.

Aug.

This is a kind of begging

Would make a Broker charitable.

Mil.

Here, (sweet heart)

I wish it were more.

Lean.

When this is spent,

Seek for supply from me.

Jam.

Thy piety

For ever be remembred: nay take all,

Though 'twere my exhibition to a Royal

For one whole year.

Asc.

High Heavens reward your goodness.

Hen.

So Sir, is this a slip of your own grafting,

You are so prodigal?

Jam.

A slip Sir?

Hen.

Yes,

A slip; or call it by the proper name,

Your Bastard.

Jam.

You are foul-mouth'd; do not provoke me,

I shall forget your Birth if you proceed,

And use you, (as your manners do deserve) uncivilly.

Hen.

So brave! pray you give me hearing,

Who am I Sir?

Jam.

My elder Brother: One

That might have been born a fool, and so reputed,

But that you had the luck to creep into

The world a year before me.

Lean.

Be more temperate.

Jam.

I neither can nor will, unless I learn it

By his example: let him use his harsh

Unsavoury reprehensions upon those

That are his Hinds, and not on me. The Land

Our Father left to him alone rewards him,

For being twelve months elder, let that be

Forgotten, and let his Parasites remember

One quality of worth or vertue in him

That may authorize him, to be a censurer

Of me, or my manners, and I will

Acknowledge him for a Tutor, till then, never.

Hen.

From whom have you your means Sir?

Jam.

From the will

Of my dead Father; I am sure I spend not

Nor give't upon your purse.

Hen.

But will it hold out

Without my help?

Jam.

I am sure it shall, I'le sink else,

For sooner I will seek aid from a Whore,

Than a courtesie from you.

Hen.

'Tis well; you are proud of

Your new Exchequer, when you have cheated him

And worn him to the quick, I may be found

In the List of your acquaintance.

Lean

Pray you hold

And give me leave (my Lord) to say thus much

(And in mine own defence) I am no Gull

To be wrought on by perswasion: nor no Coward

To be beaten out of my means, but know to whom

And why I give or lend, and will do nothing

But what my reason warrants; you may be

As sparing as you please, I must be bold

To make use of my own, without your licence.

Jam.

'Pray thee let him alone, he is not worth thy anger.

All that he do's (Leandro) is for my good,

I think there's not a Gentleman of Spain,

That has a better Steward, than I have of him.

Hen.

Your Steward Sir?