Thus heaping honors on two noble men. _(Exit muchacho)_ _Quezox:_ But thought hath strayed like an unbridled steed, And I must harness it to work my will. This Bonset: Francos seems to love him well And may him thrust in Carpen's cast-off shoes; My bowels gripe me with suspicion dire That plans are rip'ning to this very end; Hence we must pour in an unwilling ear A weighty protest ere the scheme matures. An open opposition were not wise For Francos hath, I ween a stubborn streak Which might by irritation grow so big That naught could move it; while a flatt'ring tongue Might bend him, all unconscious to himself, To work our every will, while he doth dream That from his fertile brain the seeds do sprout; 'Tis thus we'll plant our choice in Carpen's place. _Muchacho (bearing grape juice and cigarettes approaches; speaks):_ Senor, an hombre at the portal knocks Who hath an oily tongue, which wagged desire To speack with thee, but I all unawere Of thy design, did ward him gently off. _Quezox:_ 'Twere well, thus ever do when skins are white. But did this hombre show a mighty girth? _Muchacho:_ In sooth he did, Senor; his leg like to A python gorged with infant carabao Did to his body make comparison. _Quezox:_ Ha! bid him hence. I know this hombre well! Go twist thy tongue into a double knot So that his importuning I escape. _(Exit muchacho)_