We diverted ourselves by the way as best we could, and I happened to act a piece out of a play of San Alejo that I had borne a part in when I was a boy, which I did so well, that they took a liking to me, and learning of my friend, who was in the company, of all my misfortunes and hard circumstances which I had made him acquainted with, she asked me whether I would make one among them? They so highly extolled their strolling course of life, and I was then in such want of some support, and so fond of the wench, that I agreed with the manager for two years. Writings were signed between us to oblige me to stay with them, so they gave me my allowance, and allotted my parts, and thus we came to Toledo. They gave me two or three prologues to get by heart, and some other grave parts, which suited well with my voice. I applied myself to it, and spoke the first prologue in the town, which was about a ship in distress, as they all are, and wanting provisions, which put into that port. I called the folks a "Senate," begging their attentions, pardon for all faults, and so went off. There was great clapping of hands, and in fine I was liked on the stage. We acted a play, written by one of our actors, and I wondered how they should come to be poets, for I thought it belonged only to very learned and ingenious men, and not to persons so extremely ignorant. But it is now come to such a pass that every head of them writes plays, and every actor makes drolls and farces; though formerly I remember no plays would go down but such as were written by the good Lope de Vega and Doctor Ramon. In short, the play was acted the first day, and no soul could make anything of it. The second day we began it again, and as God would have it, there was some warlike exploit to begin with; and I came upon the stage in armour, and with a target on my arm, which was a great mercy, or else I had infallibly been pelted to death with cabbage-stalks and pumpkins, and all things that came to hand. Such a storm of hail was never seen, and the play deserved it, for it represented a king of Normandy in a hermit's habit, without any sense or reason, had two scoundrel footmen to make sport, and when they came to unravel the plot, there was nothing but marrying of all the company, and there was an end; so that, to say the truth, we got but what we deserved. We all fell foul of our companion, the pretended poet, and I bade him consider what a danger we had escaped, and take warning by it; he answered, he had not made one word of the play, but only picked up bits and scraps, some from one and some from another, as they came in his way, which he had jumbled together, like a beggar's cloak made of all sorts of rags; and the ill luck was, that it had not been neatly joined. He owned, that all the players who wrote plays, were obliged to make restitution, because they only stole from all the parts they acted, which was easily done, and