_Lop_.
Then Wills and Funeral Sermons come in season,
And Feasts that make us frolick.
_Die_.
Would I could see 'em.
_Lop_.
And though I weep i'th' Pulpit for my Brother,
Yet (_Diego_) here I laugh.
_Die_.
The cause requires it.
_Lop_.
Since people left to die I am dunce, _Diego_.
_Die_. 'Tis a strange thing, I have forgot to dig too.
_Lea_.
A pretious pair of youths! I must make toward'em.
_Lop_.
Who's that? look it seems he would speak to us.
I hope a Marriage, or some Will to make, _Diego_.
_Die_.
My friend your business?
_Lea_.
'Tis to that grave Gentleman;
Bless your good learning, Sir.
_Lop_.
And bless you also,
He bears a promising face, there's some hope toward.
_Lea_.
I have a Letter to your worship.
_Lop_.
Well Sir,
From whence I pray you?
_Lea_.
From _Nova Hispania_, Sir,
And from an ancient friend of yours.
_Lop_.
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