_Mar._ (_embarrassed._) Told my fortune? _Hyp._ Yes, yes; I know they did. Give me your hand. I’ll tell you what they said. They said—they said, The shepherd boy that loved you was a clown, And him you should not marry. Was it not? _Mar._ (_surprised._) How know you that? _Hyp._ O I know more than that. What a soft little hand! And then they said A cavalier from court, handsome and tall, And rich, should come one day to marry you. And you should be a lady. Was it not? _Mar._ (_withdrawing her hand._) How know you that? _Hyp._ O I know more than that. He has arrived, the handsome cavalier. (_Tries to kiss her._ _She runs off._) (_Enter Victorian, with a letter._) _Vic._ The muleteer has come. _Hyp._ So soon? _Vic._ I found him Sitting at supper by the tavern door, And from a pitcher, that he held aloft His whole arm’s length, drinking the blood-red wine. _Hyp._ What news from court? _Vic._ He brought this letter only. (_Reads._) O cursed perfidy! Why did I let That lying tongue deceive me! Preciosa, Sweet Preciosa! how art thou avenged? _Hyp._ What news is this, that makes thy cheek turn pale, And thy hand tremble? _Vic._ O, most infamous! The Count of Lara is a damnéd villain! _Hyp._ That is no news, forsooth. _Vic._ He strove in vain To steal from me the jewel of my soul, The love of Preciosa. Not succeeding, He swore to be revenged; and set on foot A plot to ruin her, which has succeeded. She has been hissed and hooted from the stage, Her reputation stained by slanderous lies Too foul to speak of; and once more a beggar She roams a wanderer over God’s green earth, Housing with gipsies! _Hyp._ To renew again The Age of Gold, and make the shepherd swains Desperate with love, like Gaspar Gil’s Diana. _Redit et Virgo!_ _Vic._ Dear Hypolito, How have I wronged that meek, confiding heart! I will go seek for her; and with my tears Wash out the wrong I’ve done her! _Hyp._ O beware! Act not that folly o’er again. _Vic._ Aye, folly, Delusion, madness, call it what thou wilt, I will confess my weakness—I still love her! Still fondly love her! (_Enter the Padre Cura._) _Hyp._ Tell us, Padre Cura, Who are these gipsies in the neighborhood? _P. Cura._ Beltran Cruzado and his crew. _Vic._ Kind Heaven, I thank thee! She is found again! is found! _Hyp._ And have they with them a pale, beautiful girl Called Preciosa? _P. Cura._ Aye, a pretty girl. The gentleman seems moved. _Hyp._ Yes, moved with hunger; He is half famished with this long day’s journey. _P. Cura._ Then, pray you, come this way. The supper waits. [_Exeunt._