The people all believ’d that he was dumb:
In troops, with hasty steps, to him they went;
To get their fate presag’d was their intent.
The man well vers’d was in the mystic art,
And quick as thought could wondrous things impart.
Whoever were with anxious cares oppress’d,
Or on account of absent friends distress’d,
Unto Alcanzar swiftly did repair,
Each of his purse did amply make him share.
It matters not how great the distance be,