Or any kindred that you have—for heaven-sake, Master,
Let's cast about a little, and consider,
We may dream out our time.
Lea.
It seems I am deceiv'd, Sir,
Yet, that you are Don Lopez all men tell me,
The Curate here, and have been some time, Sir,
And you the Sexton Diego, such I am sent to,
The letter tells as much: may be they are dead,
And you of the like names succeed: I thank ye Gentlemen,