+Blan.+ Have I not a worthy gallant, think you?
+Fran.+ Madam, this comes of being over-curious, And gaining servants to betray their masters. How quiet might you have slept, and never felt What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid! His pale and dismal looks at his return, Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service Of other dames, might fairly have been thought Effects of care and want of sleep for you, And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments. Who ever pry'd into another's letter, Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper, But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him? 'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all.
+Blan.+ Away with thy moralities,[7] dull creature! I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel, That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated. But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [_+Francisca+ looks out._
+Fran.+ Madam, it is a page of Violante's, Ushering [in] a handsome maid.
_Enter a Page with a letter, and +Elvira+. The Page presents the letter to +Blanca+; she addresses herself to +Elvira+, and she throws up her veil._
+Blan.+ This letter is in your behalf, fair maid, [_Having read the letter._ There's no denying such a recommender; But such a face as yours is needed none. Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [_Turning._ (For so she says you are call'd) be confident Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress, If your demeanour and good-nature answer But what your looks do promise.
+Elv.+[8] Madam, it is the noble charity Of those you cast upon me, not mine own, To which I must acknowledge any advantage I ever can pretend to, more than what Fair Violante's meditation gives me.
+Blan.+ She's strangely handsome, and how well she speaks! [_Aside to +Francisca+._
+Fran.+ So, so, methinks: you know new-comers, madam, Set still the best foot forward.
+Blan.+ And know as well, that you decaying stagers Are always jealous of new-comers, young And handsome.
+Fran.+ You may be as sharp upon me as you please; I know to what t' attribute your ill-humour.
+Blan.+ Francisca, entertain her: I'll go write To Violante, and then rest awhile, In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me; That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [_Exit +Blanca+._