Chispa. Halloo! Don Fulano! Let us have horses, and quickly.
Alas, poor Chispa! what a dog's life dost thou lead! I thought,
when I left my old master Victorian, the student, to serve my
new master Don Carlos, the gentleman, that I, too, should lead the
life of a gentleman; should go to bed early, and get up late.
For when the abbot plays cards, what can you expect of the
friars? But, in running away from the thunder, I have run into
the lightning. Here I am in hot chase after my master and his
Gypsy girl. And a good beginning of the week it is, as he said
who was hanged on Monday morning.
(Enter DON CARLOS)
Don C. Are not the horses ready yet?
Chispa. I should think not, for the hostler seems to be
asleep. Ho! within there! Horses! horses! horses! (He knocks at
the gate with his whip, and enter MOSQUITO, putting on his
jacket.)
Mosq. Pray, have a little patience. I'm not a musket.
Chispa. Health and pistareens! I'm glad to see you come on
dancing, padre! Pray, what's the news?
Mosq. You cannot have fresh horses; because there are none.
Chispa. Cachiporra! Throw that bone to another dog. Do I look
like your aunt?
Mosq. No; she has a beard.
Chispa. Go to! go to!
Mosq.
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