_San._ I think she has taken them all with her; the jade has got her apron full. _Car._ Is not that _Lorenzo_ coming this way? _San._ Yes, 'tis he; for my part now I pity the poor gentleman. _Enter ~Lorenzo~._ _Car._ I'll let him see at last I can be chearful too. Your servant, Don _Lorenzo_; how do you do this morning? _Lor._ I thank you, Don _Carlos_, perfectly well both in body and mind. _Car._ What! cur'd of your love, then? _Lor._ No, nor I hope I never shall. May I ask you how 'tis with yours? _Car._ Increasing every hour; we are very constant both. _Lor._ I find so much delight in being so, I hope I never shall be otherwise. _Car._ Those joys I am well acquainted with. But should lose them soon, were I to meet a cool reception. _Lor._ That's every generous lover's case, no doubt; an angel could not fire my heart but with an equal flame. _Car._ And yet you said you still lov'd _Leonora_. _Lor._ And yet I said I lov'd her. _Car._ Does she then return you---- _Lor._ Everything my passion can require. _Car._ Its wants are small, I find. _Lor._ Extended as the Heavens. _Car._ I pity you. _Lor._ He must be a Deity that does so. _Car._ Yet I'm a mortal, and once more can pity you. Alas, _Lorenzo_, 'tis a poor cordial to an aching heart, to have the tongue alone announce it happy; besides 'tis mean, you should be more a man. _Lor._ I find I have made you an unhappy one, so can forgive the boilings of your spleen. _Car._ This seeming calmness might have the effect your vanity proposes by it; had I not a testimony of her love would (should I shew it) sink you to the center. _Lor._ Yet still I'm calm as ever. _Car._ Nay then have at your peace. Read that, and end the farce. [_Gives him ~Leonora~'s letter._ _Lor._ [_Reads._] I have read it. _Car._ And know the hand? _Lor._ 'Tis _Leonora_'s; I have often seen it. _Car._ I hope you then at last are satisfied. _Lor._ I am, [_Smiling._] Good-morrow, _Carlos_. [_Exit ~Lor~._ _San._ Sure he's mad, Master. _Car._ Mad! say'st thou? _San._ And yet by'r lady, that was a sort of a dry sober smile at going off. _Car._ A very sober one! Had he shewn me such a letter, I had put on another countenance. _San._ Ay, o' my conscience had you. _Car._ Here's mystery in this----I like it not. _San._ I see his man and confidant there, _Lopez_. Shall I draw on a _Scotch_ pair of boots, Master, and make him tell all? _Car._ Some questions I must ask him; call him hither. _San._ Hem, _Lopez_, hem! _Enter ~Lopez~._ _Lop._ Who calls? _San._ I, and my master. _Lop._ I can't stay. _San._ You can indeed, Sir. [_Laying hold on him._ _Car._ Whither in such haste, honest _Lopez_! What! upon some love errand? _Lop._ Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon, but I was going----