If ever fortune played me a jade's trick, 'twas when she brought my wives to Seville. So far have I contrived to keep them separate; but should they meet, they'll talk; and then, woe to that most interesting of all subjects, myself! I am sure to be discovered. Why, in half an hour, their rapid tongues would range o'er half the creation. Now, Beppa is my first wife, and, like all other first choices, the worst. There's vengeance in her, and she'll apply to the authorities; then must I to the galleys. Who wants a wife? I have one--aye two--to dispose of. Here comes a fool I trifle with. (_Enter Sancho._) So, comrade, what's your business now? (_Mimicking him._) Saint Petronila! you are a faithful servant, ever stirring to do your master's pleasure. _San._ 'Tis not his pleasure that I am upon--it is my own: I go to Donna Isidora's. _Ant._ What dost thou there? _San._ (_affectedly_). I please a damsel, and she pleases me. _Ant._ I do not wonder at it. Barring a certain too intelligent look that thou hast, thou art a pretty fellow, and made to charm the ladies. Who is this damsel of your choice? _San._ You'll keep my secret? _Ant._ As faithfully as I do all others. _San._ It is the maid of Donna Isidora. I knew her at Toledo, and for years kept her company. During my absence,--Saint Petronila strike him with the leprosy!--a certain Lopez, a dirty, shuffling, addle-pated knave, stepped in between us, and married her. She took the poor fool purely through pique, because I did not write to her; and the holy saint knows I had not then learned. _Ant._ (_aside_). Now would I beat his pate, but that I think the fool may assist me out of my difficulties. (_Aloud._) What! love a married woman! For shame, Sancho! I had thought better of you. _San._ I loved her years before she married; and since the marriage, her husband has deserted her, and I have met her often. Nina, for that's her name, has often told me how much she repented of her marriage with the fellow; and could I prove that he were dead, she'd marry me, Saint Petronila directing her, and make a wiser choice in second wedlock. _Ant._ (_aside_). The cockatrice. (_Aloud._) Sancho, I knew this Lopez. He is not quite the person you describe; but never mind. Yesterday, he came to Seville, and told me how much surprised he was to find his wife here. _San._ Then he's come back. Saint Petronila aid me! how unfortunate! _Ant._ (_musing aside_). I have it! (_Aloud._) Sancho, we have ever been the best of friends. I respect you much. I have most joyful tidings for you, and, if you will be counselled by me, Nina is yours. _San._ Indeed! I can't see how. I think I had a better chance before. _Ant._ Tut, man! you've now a certainty. Sancho, your ear--Lopez is _dead_! _San._ The scoundrel dead! My dear Antonio (_embracing him_), I thank you for the news, and so will Nina too. But can you prove it?