+Blan.+ E'en dead (you say) for love! but say of whom?
+Don Z.+ Can Blanca ask a question so injurious, As well to her own perfections as my faith?
+Blan.+ I can hold no longer. [_Aside to +Francisca+._ My faithful lover, then it is not you---- [_To him scornfully._
+Chi.+ She changes tone: I like not, faith, the key, The music will be jarring. [_Aside to his master._
+Blan.+ 'Tis not then you, Don Zancho, who, having chang'd His suit at court into a love pretension, And his concurrents into a gallant rival, Fell by his hand, a bloody sacrifice At his fair mistress' feet: who was it, then?
[_+Don Zancho+ stands awhile as amazed, with folded arms. +Chichon+ behind his master, holding up his hands, and making a pitiful face; +Francisca+ steals to him, and holding up her hand threateningly_--
+Fran.+ A blab, Chichon, a pick-thank, peaching varlet! Ne'er think to look me in the face again. [_Aside to +Chichon+._
+Chi.+ In what part shall I look thee, hast thou a worse? It is the devil has discover'd it-- Some witch dwells here: I've long suspected thee. [_Aside to +Francisca+._
+Fran.+ I never more shall think thee worth my charms.
+Blan.+ What, struck dumb with guilt? perfidious man! That happens most to the most impudent, When once detected. Well, get thee hence, And see thou ne'er presum'st to come again Within these walls, or I shall let thee see 'Tis not at court alone, where hands are found To let such madmen blood.
[_She turns as going away, and +Don Zancho+ holds her gently by the gown._
+Don Z.+ Give me but hearing, madam, and then if----
+Don J.+ What, ho! no lights below-stairs? [_Aloud, as below._
+Fran.+ O heavens! madam, hear you not your brother? Into the chamber quickly, and let them Retire behind that hanging; there's a place, Where usually we throw neglected things. I'll take the lights and meet him: certainly His stay will not be long from Violante At this time of the night; besides, you know, He never was suspicious.
[_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ go behind the hanging, and +Donna Blanca+, retiring to her chamber, says--_
Capricious fate! must I who, whilst I lov'd him, Ne'er met with checking accident, fall now Into extremest hazards for a man, Whom I begin to hate? [_Exit, and +Francisca+ at another door with the lights._