_Car._ Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who has broke his chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved him. Indifference never is his lot; he loves or hates for ever; and if his mistress proves another's prize, he cannot calmly see her in his arms. _San._ For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher as you be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see----that I generally believe; and when _Jacinta_ tells me she loves me dearly, I have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't. See here the baggage comes. _Enter ~Jacinta~ with a letter._ Hist! _Jacinta_! my dear. _Jacin._ Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master? _San._ Hard by. [_Shewing him._ _Jacin._ O, Sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; I believe I have travel'd five miles after you, and could neither find you at home, nor in the walks, nor at church, nor at the opera nor---- _San._ Nor any where else, where he was not to be found: if you had look'd for him where he was, 'twas ten to one but you had met with him. _Jacin._ I had, Jack-a-dandy! _Car._ But pr'ythee what's the matter? Who sent you after me? _Jacin._ One who's never well but when she sees you, I think; 'twas my Lady. _Car._ Dear _Jacinta_, I fain would flatter myself, but am not able; the blessing's too great to be my lot: yet 'tis not well to trifle with me; how short soe'er I am in other merit, the tenderness I have for _Leonora_ claims something from her generosity. I should not be deluded. _Jacin._ And why do you think you are? methinks she's pretty well above board with you: what must be done more to satisfy you? _San._ Why _Lorenzo_ must hang himself, and then we are content. _Jacin._ How! _Lorenzo_? _San._ If less will do, he'll tell you. _Jacin._ Why, you are not mad, Sir, are you? Jealous of him! Pray which way may this have got into your head? I took you for a man of sense before----Is this your doings, dog? [_To ~Sancho~._ _San._ No, forsooth _Pert_, I'm not much given to suspicion, as you can tell, Mrs. _Forward_----if I were, I might find more cause I guess, than your Mistress has given our Master here. But I have so many pretty thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of yours, that I stand in dread of no man.