- Taschenbuch: 90 Seiten
- Verlag: Cambridge Scholars Publishing (8. August 2009)
- Sprache: Englisch
- ISBN-10: 0217107230
- ISBN-13: 978-0217107235
- Größe und/oder Gewicht: 24,6 x 18,9 x 0,2 cm
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Kurzbeschreibung
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1837. Excerpt: ... See to it, Gomez; gentlemen, come on! We halt upon the threshold. Seville, ho! Eadt, with train. Enter Hyacinth and Sancho. HYACINTH. Never credit me, Sancho, if I don't think thee more stupid, yea, more obtusely, intensely, and impenetrably thick-skulled than ever man or woman was before thee. SANCHO. You may think so, sir, and say so, too; 'tis ever the way when you are perplexed at aught; when you have on colours you love not; or a sword-knot that sits not well, or an over-tightened shoe,--you call me hard names, and so make matters better; but, Master Hyacinth. HYACINTH. Don Hyacinthus, blockhead! SANCHO. Don Hyacinthus, blockhead! HYACINTH. Thou apish varlet! have a care! I shall commit a mischief. SANCHO. On your new hose, mayhap, if you lunge too wide; but as I know that, for the soul of you, you cannot run, I'll speak my mind at this good distance, thus--and then take to my heels. When you left Segovia for Seville, your father bestowed on you much good advice, your mother, a purse of gold, and me for servidor; since which time I have not ceased to toil in your behalf; but, sir, you have grown out of all behaviour, and my service beyond all endurance. I will no more be owed my fees by you; I will no more go strutting at your heels in your cast-off apparel, which do make me the scoff of all eyes, nor devise, at every new town we come to, the monstrous lies you blazon yourself forth in. HYACINTH. Thou speakest not the thing that is; id est, thou sayest the thing that is not; 'tis I devise, and thou hast not even the wit to utter them. SANCHO. 'Tis conscience chokes them in the utterance. HYACINTH. Take this, and clear thy conscience's throat withal; nay, honest Sancho, pray thee help my hand into my pocket, Sancho, for my mother's sake, who bade thee...
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