+Fran.+ Let me embrace thee, my sweet sister, and beg you To be no niggard of a little kindness: A very little serves, with such a face, To gain what heart you please. +Elv.+ If it can help to gain me yours, I'll take it For the best office that it ever did me, And love it much the better. +Fran.+ Make much on't then, for that 't has done already. +Elv.+ If you will have me vain enough to think it, You must confirm it by the proof of being My kind instructor how to please my lady, For I am very raw in service. +Fran.+ O, that I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it. But my experience, sister, shall be yours By free communication. Come, let's in, And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you First handsel of the frankness of my nature. [_Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+._ _Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ his man, in riding-habits._ +Don Z.+ I must confess, Chichon, the very smell Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits. There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe One's native air. +Chi.+ Chiefly after being in so fair a way, As you, of never breathing any more! +Don Z.+ Prythee, no more of that; since I have forgot it, Methinks thou easily may'st. +Chi.+ Faith, hardly, sir, whilst still your ghastly face Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it, Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay Remembrance in partakers. +Don Z.+ Heaven shield us from Donna Blanca's queries! No matter for the rest. +Chi.+ You would not wish to find her so unconcern'd; I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear Th' ingenious defeats, I make account, You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions. +Don Z.+ Let me alone for that: but, on thy life, Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee, Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca. +Chi.+ Be you, sir, sure, that from your true Chichon They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday They did; nor thence more to the world's end, Than what they did before we left Madrid. +Don Z.+ Truly, Chichon, we needs must find the means To get a sight of her this very night: I die, if I should miss it. +Chi.+ Last week left gasping for Elvira's love. And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid Had been a merchant of such quick returns. +Don Z.+ Thou art an ass, and want'st distinctiveness 'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport To keep the serious one in breath. +Chi.+ Faith, sir, I must confess my ignorance, That when I saw you grovelling in your blood, I thought your love had been in sober sadness.