"Don't you know me?"
"I only know his highness to serve him."
"You have never seen my face?"
"Never since God made me."
"How is that—have you nothing?"
"Yes, sir; I have six children as naked as colts, with throats like old stocking-legs; but, as to property, I have only grab and swallow, and often not that."
"Why don't you work?"
"Why? Because I can't find work, and I'm so unlucky that everything I undertake turns out as crooked as a goat's horn. Since I married, it appears as though a frost had fallen on me. I'm the fag of ill-hap. Now, here—a master set us to dig him a well for a price, promising doubloons when it should be finished, but giving not a single maravedi[18] beforehand."
"The master was wise," remarked Don Dinero. "'Money taken, arms broken,' is a good saying. Go on, my man."
"I put my soul in the work; for, notwithstanding your worship sees me looking so forlorn, I am a man, sir."