At length Don Diego received a letter from his father, and with it one for me, from an uncle of mine, whose name was Alonso Ramplón, a man near akin to all the virtues, and very well known in Segovia as being the finisher of the law, and for four years past the carrying out of all its decrees went through his hands. In short, to speak plain, he was the executioner or hangman; but such a clever fellow at his business that it would not vex a man to be hanged by him, he did it so neatly. This worthy person wrote to me from Segovia to Alcalá as follows:

“Son Pablo” (for so he called me for the much love he bore me)⁠—

“The great affairs of this employment in the which it has pleased his majesty to place me, have been the occasion of my not writing to you before; for if there be anything to find fault with in the king’s service, it is the great trouble and attendance it requires; which, however, is in some measure requited by the honour of being his servant. It troubles me to be forced to send you disagreeable news; but your father died eight days ago, with as much bravery and resolution as ever man did; I speak of my own knowledge, as having trussed him up myself. The cart became him as well as if it had been a chariot, and all that saw the rope about his neck concluded him as clever a fellow as ever was hanged. He looked up all the way he went at the windows, very much unconcerned, courteously bowing to all the tradesmen, that left their shops to gaze at him, and turned up his whiskers several times. He desired the priests that went to prepare him for death, not to be too eager, but to rest and take a breathing time, extolling any remarkable expressions they used. Being come to the triple tree, he presently set his foot on the ladder, and went up it nimbly, not creeping on all-four as others do; and perceiving that one of the rounds of it was cracked through, he turned to the officers attending, and bid them get it mended for the next that came, because all men had not his spirit. I cannot express how much his person and carriage were applauded. At the top of the ladder he sat down, set his clothes handsomely about him, took the rope and clapped the noose to his ear, and then perceiving the Jesuit was going to preach to him, he turned to him and said, ‘Father, I accept of the will for the deed. Let us have a few staves of a psalm, and have done quickly, for I hate to be tedious.’ This was done accordingly; he charged me to put on his cap a little to one side and to wipe his mouth, which I did. And then he swang, without shrinking up his legs, or making ugly faces; but kept such sedateness in his countenance that it was a pleasure to behold him. I quartered him out, and left the several parts on the highways. God knows what a trouble it is to me to see him there daily treating the crows and ravens. I cannot give you a much better account of your mother, for, though still living, she is a prisoner in the Inquisition at Toledo, because she would not let the dead rest in their graves. They give out that every night she used to salute a great he-goat, kissing him on the eye which has no pupil. In her house were found as many arms, legs, and heads as would have stocked a charnel house; and she reckoned it one of her smallest abilities to counterfeit virgins and solder cracked virtues. They say she would fly up a chimney, and ride faster upon a broom-staff than another can upon the best Andalusian nag. I am sorry she disgraces us all, and me more particularly as being the king’s officer, and such kindred does not become my post. Dear child, here are some goods of your father’s that have been concealed to the value of four hundred ducats; I am your uncle, and all I have is yours. Upon sight hereof you may come away hither, for your skill in Latin and rhetoric will qualify you to make you an excellent hangman. Let me have your answer speedily, and till then God keep you, etc.”

I must confess, I was much troubled at this fresh disgrace, and yet, in some measure, I was glad of it, for the scandalous lives of parents make their greatest misfortunes a comfort to their children. I went away hastily to Don Diego, who was then reading his father’s letter, in which he ordered him to leave the university and return home, but not to take me with him, because of the account he had received of my trickiness. He told me he must be gone, and how his father commanded him to part with me, which he was sorry for; and I was so much more. He added, he would recommend me to another gentleman, his friend, to serve him. I smiled, and answered, “Sir, the case is altered; I have other designs in my head, and aim at greater matters, so that I must take another course; for though hitherto I was at the foot of the ladder, in order to mount, you must understand that my father has got up to the top of it.” With this I told how bravely he had died, at his full stretch; how he was carved out, and served up as a feast to the birds of the air. That my good uncle, the executioner, had sent me the whole account, and acquainted me with my mammy’s confinement; for I could be plain with him, because he knew all my pedigree. He seemed to be much concerned, and asked how I intended to bestow myself. I informed him of all my resolutions, and so the very next day he went away for Segovia, very melancholy, and I stayed in the house, without taking the least notice of my misfortune. I burned the letter, for fear it might be dropped, and somebody read it, and began to provide for my journey to Segovia, designing to take possession of what was my due, and to know my kindred, that I might shun them.