+Don F.+ And when that rival, fallen by my sword In her own presence, is by miracle Revived, and fitter to serve her than I, That faithless mistress with the same assurance She could have done, had she been true as fair, And for my sake expos'd to fatal hazards, Flies to my arms for her protection. +Don J.+ And whilst that you, refining point of honour, In spite of rage expose yourself to serve her, She asks and takes, with a vow'd indignation To be beholden t' ye, new obligations. +Don F.+ I have recourse unto my only friend, To help me in protecting my false mistress, And he, at the same time, by highest powers [is] Impos'd upon to be her persecutor. +Don J.+ Whilst the same friend, and by the selfsame pow'rs, Is urg'd to act in their revenge against The man, on whom you most desire to take it: And then, to heighten all beyond invention, That very friend is forc'd, even in that instant, To a dependence on your only aid, In his honour's nearest and most nice concerns. +Don F.+ Heaven, sure, delights t' involve us in a kind Of labyrinth will pose itself t' unwind. [_Exeunt._ ACT IV. _Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don Zancho+, and +Chichon+ at another door, halting still with a staff._ +Don Z.+ What, here again already! have you sped? +Chi.+ Lame as I am, you see I've made good speed In my return, whate'er I've had in my errand. +Don Z.+ Leave, fool, your quibbling, and deliver me From the disquiet of uncertainty. +Chi.+ That's quickly done. Set, sir, your heart at rest From the vain hopes of ever seeing Blanca-- Now you are at ease, I trow? +Don Z.+ You'll be at little, unless you leave your jesting With such edge-tools. Is banishment from her Matter of raillery? Say, sirrah, and say Quickly, what hopes?---- Prythee, if thou lov'st me, [_Kindly._ Hold me no longer in suspense, Chichon. +Chi.+ Why, then, for fear--the devil a bit for love-- I'll tell you, sir, that luckily I met The drab Francisca at the capuchin's, Lodging behind her lady, I think on purpose; For I perceiv'd her eager sparrowhawk's eye, With her veil down (ne'er stirs a twinkling-while From its sly peeping-hole) had found me straight-- took my time i' th' nick, but she outnick'd me; For trudging on, her face another way, With such a voice, as some you have seen have had The trick to draw from caverns of their belly, And make one think it came from a mile off, She made me hear these words: _About twilight Fail not to pass by our door, and ask no more At this time, varlet._ And thus, sir, you see, That neither she nor I have been prolix, For this is all. You have leave to make your comment On a brief text.