Siguenza." The porter interposed, hearing a little old fellow cry out
that though he came there for pottage he was descended from the famous
Great Captain, and had many lofty relations. But I will leave them here,
since our companion was now got off, and endeavouring to shake his bones
into their places again.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAP. III.
_The further Proceedings of this Sharping Gang, till they were thrown
all together into Gaol._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The next that came was Merlo Diaz, his girdle hung all round with
earthen cups and glasses, which he had got at nunneries, begging drink
at the wheel, without the least remorse of conscience. Don Lorenzo de
Pedroso relieved him, coming in with an excellent good cloak, which he
had exchanged at a billiard table for his own, which had no sign it had
been made of wool, it was so threadbare. This fellow used to take off
his cloak, as if he designed to play, and to lay it among the rest, and
then not agreeing about the match, he returned to the place, took up the
cloak he liked best, and went his way; the same he did at nine-pins and
other games. All this was nothing in comparison of Don Cosme, who
came in with a regiment of boys at his tail, that were troubled with the
king's evil, cancers, or leprosy, or were hurt or lame. He played the
white witch, or doctor, that cured by prayers and blessings, having to
this purpose learned some superstitious ceremonies and cramp words of an
old woman. By this cheat he got more than all the rest together, for if
anyone came to be cured without something to make a show under his
cloak, or the jingle of money in his pocket, or the cry of some live
fowl, he was never at leisure. He had made fools of half the town,
making them believe whatsoever he pleased, for there never was so
absolute a master at lying, insomuch that he never spoke truth but
accidentally. His common discourse was of heaven; when he came into a
house he always said, "God be here;" and going out, "The Lord have you
in his keeping." He carried with him all the apparatus of hypocrisy; a
pair of beads as big as walnuts; the fag end of a scourge, bloodied
from his nose, he would contrive to be peeping out from under his cloak;
when he shrugged to remove the creatures that bit him, he persuaded
others it was the hair cloth he wore next his skin, and that this
starving was a voluntary fast. Then would he tell stories of strange
temptations he had overcome; if the devil happened to be named, he
cried, "The Lord deliver and preserve us," kissed the ground when he
went into the church, called himself unworthy sinner, never lifted up
his eyes to look at women, though he might their coats. These cheats had
so far prevailed on the multitude that they begged his prayers, and
might as well have applied themselves to the devil; for he was not only
a gamester, but a very shark or pickpocket, who never took the name of
God in vain, being always sure to get something by it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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