The Visions of Dom Francisco de Quevedo VillegasQuevedo, Francisco de
General
The Visions of Dom Francisco de Quevedo Villegas
Quevedo, Francisco de
Satire; Spanish literature -- Translations into English
coachman’s nose, another the gentleman-usher’s legs, a third a
cousin-german’s eyes. And some, we are to presume, conceived purely by
strength of imagination, or else by the ears like weazels.”
Thereupon appeared a little remnant of a man, a dapper Spaniard, with a
kind of a besome-beard, and a voice not unlike the yapping of a foysting
cur. As he came near the company, he set up his throat, and called out,
“Ah jade!” says he, “I shall now take ye to task, ye whore you, for
making me father my negro’s bastard, and for the estate I settled upon
him. I did ever misdoubt foul play, but should never have dreamt of that
ugly toad, when there was such choice of handsome, lusty young fellows
about us; but it may be she had them too. I cursed the monks many and
many a time, I remember, to the pit of hell, heaven forgive me for’t; for
the strumpet would be perpetually gadding abroad, under colour of going
to confession, and in sooth I was never any great friend to penance and
mortification. And then would I be easing my mind ever and anon to this
cursed Moor. ‘I cannot imagine,’ said I, ‘where this mistress of thine
should commit all the sins that she goes every hour of the day to confess
at yonder monastery.’ And then would this dog-Moor answer me. ‘Alas,
good lady! I would e’en venture my soul with hers with all my heart; she
spends all her time you see in holy duties.’ I was at that time so
innocent, that I suspected nothing more than a pure respect and civility
to my wife; but I have learnt better since, and that effectually his soul
and hers were commonly ventured in the same bottom; yes, and their bodies
too, as I perceive by their magpie issue, for the bastards take after
both father and mother.”
“So that at this rate,” cried the adopted fathers, “the husband of a
whore has a pleasant time on’t. First, he’s subjected to all the
pukings, longings, and peevish importunities, that a breeding woman gives
those about her till she’s laid; and then comes the squalling of the
child, and the twittle-twattle-gossipings of the nurse and midwife, that
must be well treated too, well lodged, and well paid. ‘A sweet baby,’
says one (to the jade the mother on’t) ‘’tis e’en as like the father as
if he had spit it out on’s mouth; it has the very lips, the very eyes of
him,’ when ’tis no more like him than an apple is like an oyster. And,
in conclusion, when we have borne all this, and twenty times more in
t’other world with a Christian patience, we are hurried away to hell, and
here we lie a company of damned cuckolds of us; and here we are like to
lie, for ought I see, in _sæcula sæculorum_: which is very hard, and in
truth out of all reason.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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