SCENE II.--_A Street.

_Enter_ CARLOS _before_ DON LOPEZ'S _Door_.

_Carl._ That is the door of Lopez, and Sancho must come out this way. Now, fool, sit fast, for thou shalt not want for pestilent advice: but first, I must know how far thou hast proceeded with the father and the daughter, that I may know what drugs I must prepare for the present condition of my patient.--Oh, the door opens already, and he bolts out single, as I wished.

_Enter_ SANCHO, _picking his Teeth_.

_San._ What, Carlos, you have dined before me; but, it may be, you have not fared so well.

_Carl._ The best part of your entertainment, I suppose, was the desert of the fair Dalinda after dinner; and how, and how go matters?

_San._ Better than thou wouldst have them; thou wouldst have put a spoke in my wheel, I know it.

_Carl._ No; fortune always sets those of your admirable understanding uppermost. But, remember, Dalinda was once mine, however.

_San._ Thou wouldst not have me give the box away, when I have thrown seven? Come, set upon it what thou darest, and I'll give thee leave to do thy worst.

_Carl._ You are very confident of your good luck.

_San._ Thou knowest I have a perpetual ascendant over thee.

_Carl._ And you are sure to carry her?

_San._ She is fond of my person; she ogled me all dinner-time; she put her foot under the table, and trod upon mine; and if these are not certain symptoms of passion, the devil's in womankind.

_Carl._ And her father?

_San._ The goodest old man! he drank my health to his daughter; and I, to comply with my obligation, answered the challenge. There, I think, I was with her again.

_Carl._ You have no more to do but to take out a licence.

_San._ Indeed, I have her licence for it.

_Carl._ What, quibbling too in your prosperity? If you let another, I shall be enraged. But you have not told me that her father is consenting.

_San._ In a manner; but--

_Carl._ But what? is he not absolutely yours?

_San._ There is a small demur upon the matter: in short, he hit me in the teeth with a damnable rich old Conde; who, I find, has been dabbling with this covetous old hunks; but, bating him, Don Lopez tells me I shall be the welcomest man alive.

_Carl._ Do you know that Conde's name?

_San._ Don something de Cardona, whom the devil confound!

_Carl._ My old acquaintance; he charged with me in the battle, but what became of him I know not. If he be the man, despair betimes, Sancho; he'll revenge my quarrel, and carry her in spite of you.

_San._ I am cunning, you know; and I believe he named that cursed Conde, only to draw me on the faster.

_Carl._ And do you think a gentleman can succeed against a Conde with a woman?

_San._ Why not?

_Carl._ No more than a Conde against a duke, and so upwards;--abandon her, I say.

_San._ No; I am resolute.

_Carl._ To be the shoeing-horn for the Conde?

_San._ I confess I would not be the shoeing-horn, to draw him on.

_Carl._ No, for that's to be a pimp for him.

_San._ Right; therefore I will leave her.

_Carl._ Then go back, and quarrel with her and her father; go, I say, immediately, before your virtue cools.

_San._ I'll give them their own, I'll warrant them. What, make a shoeing-horn of a man of honour? [_Exit_ SANCHO.

_Carl._ [_alone_] If the Conde be in love, then why should Lopez admit of Sancho for a suitor? if not, the fool is in the right, that it was only feigned, to draw him on. However, my advice will strike on both sides; for, if Sancho quarrels, he's discarded; and for the Conde--stay a little--what, if I should play this Conde? I know him, and can mimic him exactly; 'tis but a jest if I am discovered; and if the Conde loves her, and she him, then I marry her in his shape.--Oh, they are coming out to quarrel in the open air, for the house is grown too hot for them; but I dare not stay to see the battle, for fear of getting blows on both sides. [_Exit_ CARLOS.

_Enter_ LOPEZ, DALINDA, _and_ SANCHO.

_Lop._ I'll wait upon you out of my house, however.

_San._ Father-in-law, that might have been, no more ceremonies; I'll be no shoeing-horn for any man.

_Lop._ You would not be my daughter's hindrance?

_San._ There's no more to be said on't; but either a bargain, or no bargain.

_Lop._ A bargain, if the Conde comes not on.

_San._ Then, as he comes on, I must go off, with a pox to you and to your daughter!

_Dal._ At least it shall not be a pox of your giving.

_San._ The Conde's pox take you then! that's an honourable pox, descended in a right line from Don Roderic the Goth, I'll warrant you.

_Lop._ Indeed, if your estate were as great as his--

_San._ Nay, for that matter, I can drop gold with him, as little as I care for her.

_Dal._ But then his title?

_San._ I have more gold yet, to weigh down his parchment: and then my wit against a Conde's wit; that's for overplus; for, though I say it--

_Lop._ Who should not say it--

_San._ Yet I do say it, and will say it, especially as lords go now. Come, there's no more to be said, Lopez; but take back your trumpery, I mean your daughter; or I'll send for the scavenger with a dung-cart.

_Lop._ This is insufferable; and by this honourable beard--

_San._ Which I'll pull off by handfuls, if you swagger--

Lop. [_Aside, to_ DAL.] What shall we do with this madman, daughter?

_Dal._ You should send for an alguazil to order him, if I were sure that the Conde would come on again; but, since that's uncertain, go in, father, and let me alone with him: if I make him your son-in-law, that's punishment sufficient for him.

_Lop._ Well, cavalier, you may chance to hear of me. [_Exit_ LOPEZ.

_San._ Yes, and of your daughter too, in the next lampoon, I doubt not.--[_To_ DALINDA.] Why don't you follow him? What do you and I together, madam countess?

_Dal._ Nay, I know not.

_San._ Nor I neither.

_Dal._ I hope you will not beat me.

[_She looks languishingly upon him._

_San._ I can't tell that; thou hast a damnable kind of leer, that would provoke me to somewhat--I say not what.

_Dal._ Beat me with my own hand, if I deserve it; there 'tis for you.

[_Gives him her hand, and squeezes his._

_San._ If I should beat thee now, as thou hast deserved richly, I could make thee satisfaction.

_Dal._ Indeed they say an old man should never beat a young woman, because he cannot make her satisfaction.

_San._ Abominable chuck! if I did not hate thee mortally, I could be content to love thee for a quarter of an hour or so.--Why, what's here to do? you are at your old tricks again. Pr'ythee, sweet devil, do not ogle me, nor squeeze my palm so feelingly; thou dear infernal, do not.

_Dal._ Why, do I hurt you?

_San._ No, but thou ticklest me to the very heart-strings, most wickedly.

_Dal._ You command me then to leave you?

[_Seems to be going._

_San._ Not command you neither, not absolutely.

_Dal._ I go then--

_San._ Then I do command thee. I mean to stay a little longer. Thou hast fired my blood most horribly with that squeezing: hast not thou the itch? speak, damnation! I think I have got the infection of thee.

[_He shakes his hands._

_Dal._ I'll go and comfort my old father for the affronts you gave him.

_San._ No, perverseness; I'll make thee stay: in very spite of thy proud sex, I'll humble thee.

_Dal._ But was not you a grievous man to use him so? you shall tell me, or I break your fingers.

_San._ Not a word, to save thee from perdition; I am as dumb as a heathen oracle.

_Dal._ Then I must squeeze it out of you.

[_Pressing his hand again._

_San._ Ah, ha! it runs through me like wild-fire.

[_Panting._

_Dal._ Did not Carlos give you this naughty counsel?

_San._ I should not answer thee, I know it. Hartlykins! this is just cramping a man when he's asleep, to make him tell his dream. Let go my hand, and Carlos did not advise me; but hold it, and he did:--now, will you be at quiet with me?

_Dal._ Not till you promise me to be friends with my father.

_San._ Well, confound thee, I am friends with him.

_Dal._ And to banish Carlos for an evil counsellor.

_San._ Upon condition you'll discharge the count from seeing you.

_Dal._ No conditions: either surrender upon discretion, or I'll put you to the sword.

_San._ Pox on thee for being so tyrannical; but I can't help myself, and therefore I totally submit.

_Dal._ Now, then, you shall perceive how gracious a princess I intend to be. My father doats upon this count, but I despise him.

_San._ That's a good girl; for love of me, I'll warrant you.

_Dal._ You think I coax you now.

_San._ No, I know my own merit too well for that.

_Dal._ Then do what I advise you. My father has not often seen this count; what if you should pass for him?

_San._ Hum! I do not apprehend thee.

_Dal._ A man of your wit, and be so stupid! you shall counterfeit the count.

_San._ Counterfeit the count! that's a pure quibble; but I can make no more on't.

_Dal._ He's an old fellow, and a fool: now, you shall take upon you to be this count, to deceive my father; and I'll keep your counsel, and teach you how to represent him.

_San._ Oh, now I understand you! but 'tis impossible for me to counterfeit a fool.

_Dal._ I'll warrant you; trust nature.

_San._ A man of my sense can never hide his parts.

_Dal._ No, but you may shew them. Go back to your lodgings; I'll provide you clothes, and send you directions in writing how to behave yourself before my father.--One word more; be sure you manage this in private, and shut out Carlos, lest he should discover our intrigue.

_San._ Well, I will strive for once to get the better of my wit, and play the natural as naturally as I can: but you had better come yourself and teach me, for you have put me in a pure way of taking your instructions. [_Exit_ SANCHO.

_Dal._ [_Alone._] When I consider what has passed between the count and me, there's little reason to believe a man should put on a foul shirt again, when he has put it off already, and has change of linen by him. However, my father shall know nothing of this disguise; for he, that sold my first maidenhead to the lord, may sell my second to the fool; and that would be too much in conscience, that a woman, once in twice, should not have the letting her own freehold. And therefore I will have the selling of myself, and Sancho shall have the refusal of the bargain.

Wise heaven, in pity to the sex, designed Fools for the last relief of womankind. Two married wits no quiet can enjoy; Two fools together would the house destroy: But providence, to level human life, Made the fool husband for the witty wife. [_Exit_ DALINDA.