Men. God rest my father’s soul, says I, who left me a pedigree and patent all blazon’d in gold and azure, that exempts me from such impositions.
Nuñ. I wish h left you the gold in a more available shape, however.
Men. Though, indeed, when I come to think of it, I do know if I owe him any thanks; considering that, unless he had consented to beget me an Hidalgo at once, I would have been born at all, for him or any one.
Nuñ. Humph! Could you have hel it?
Men. Easily.
Nuñ. How, sir.
Men. You must know that every one that is born is the essence of the food his parents eat——
Nuñ. Oh! Your parents did eat, then, sir? You have not inherited that of them, at all events.
Men. Knave, do you insinuate——
Nuñ. I only know it is now three lock, and we have neither of us yet had anything but our own spittle to chew.