_Lop._ I won't be positive in that neither. I guess what you are going about--There's Roguery a-foot: This is at _Leonora_, who I know hates him; nothing under a Rape will do't----He'll be hang'd----And then, what becomes of thee, my little _Lopez_?----Why, the Honour to a----dingle dangle by him. Which he'll have the Good-nature to be mighty sorry for. But I may chance to be beforehand with him: If we are not taken in the Fact, they'll perhaps do him the Honour to set a Reward upon his Head. Which if they do, Don, I shall go near to follow your moral Example, secure my Pardon, make my Fortune, and hang you up for the Good of your Country. [_Exit._ [Illustration] +ACT+ III. +SCENE+, _Don_ Felix's _House_. _Enter Don ~Felix~, Don ~Pedro~, ~Leonora~, and ~Jacinta~._ Don _Fel._ How, Son! oblig'd to leave us immediately, say you? Don _Ped._ My ill Fortune, Sir, will have it so. _Leo._ [_Aside._] What can this be? Don _Fel._ Pray, what's the Matter? You surprise me. Don _Ped._ This Letter, Sir, will inform you. Don _Fel._ [Reads.] _My dear Son, ~Bertrand~ has brought me the welcome News of your Return, and has given me your Letter; which has in some Sort reviv'd my Spirits in the Extremity I am in. I daily expect my Exit from this World. 'Tis now six Years since I have seen you; I shou'd be glad to do it once again before I die: If you will give me that Satisfaction, you must be speedy. Heaven preserve you._ [_~To Don~ Ped._] 'Tis enough: The Occasion I'm sorry for, but since the Ties of Blood and Gratitude oblige you, far be it from me to hinder you. Farewel, my Son, may you have a happy Journey; and if it be Heaven's Will, may the sight of so good a Son revive so kind a Father. I leave you to bid your Wife adieu. [_Exit ~Don~ Fel._ Don _Ped._ I must leave you, my lovely Bride; but 'tis with bitter Pangs of Separation. Had I your Heart to chear me on my Way, I might with such a Cordial run my Course: But that Support you want the Power to give me. _Leo._ Who tells you so? Don _Ped._ My Eyes and Ears, and all the Pains I bear. _Leo._ When Eyes and Ears are much indulg'd, like favourite Servants they are apt to abuse the too much Trust their Master places in 'em. Don _Ped._ If I'm abus'd, assist me with some fair Interpretation of all that present Trouble and Disquiet, which is not in my Power to overlook, nor yours to hide. _Leo._ You might methinks have spar'd my Modesty; and without forcing me to name your Absence, have laid my Trouble there. Don _Ped._ No, no, my Fair Deluder, that's a Veil too thin to cover what's so hard to hide; my Presence not my Absence is the Cause. Your cold Reception at my first Approach, prepar'd me for the Stroke; and 'twas not long before your Mouth confirmed my Doom: Don _Guzman_, I am yours. _Leo._ Is't then possible the Mouth shou'd utter one Name for another?