I therefore will go seek some mountain high, If high enough some mountain may be found, } With distant valley dreadfully profound, } And from the horrid cliff--look calmly all around. } Farewel. [_Aside._ _Lor._ No, sirrah, I'll see your wretched end myself. Die here, villain. [_Drawing his sword._ _Lop._ I can't, Sir, if any body looks upon me. _Lor._ Away, you trifling wretch; but think not to escape, for thou shalt have thy recompence. [_Exit ~Lorenzo~._ _~Lopez~ solus._ Why, what a mischievous jade is this, to make such an uproar in a family the first day of her marriage! Why my master won't so much as get a honey-moon out of her; I'gad let her go. If she be thus in her soft and tender youth, she'll be rare company at threescore: well, he may do as he pleases, but were she my dear, I'd let her go----Such a foot at her tail, I'd make the truth bounce out at her mouth, like a pellet out of a pot-gun. [_Exit._ +ACT+ IV. +SCENE+ I. _Enter ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._ _Isab._ 'Tis an unlucky accident indeed. _Cam._ Ah _Isabella_! Fate has now determin'd my undoing. This thing can ne'er end here, _Leonora_ and _Lorenzo_ must soon come to some explanation; the dispute is too monstrous to pass over, without further enquiry, which must discover all, and what will be the consequence, I tremble at: for whether Don _Alvarez_ knows of the imposture, or whether he is deceiv'd, with the rest of the world, when once it breaks out, and the consequence is the loss of that great wealth he now enjoys by it, what must become of me? All paternal affections then must cease, and regarding me as an unhappy instrument in the trouble which will then o'erload him, he will return me to my humble birth, and then I'm lost for ever. For what, alas! will the deceiv'd _Lorenzo_ say? A wife with neither fortune, birth, nor beauty, instead of one most plenteously endow'd with all. O heavens! what a sea of misery I have before me! _Isab._ Indeed you reason right, but these reflections are ill-tim'd; why did you not employ them sooner? _Cam._ Because I lov'd. _Isab._ And don't you do so now? _Cam._ I do, and therefore 'tis I make these cruel just reflections. _Isab._ So that love, I find, can do any thing. _Cam._ Indeed it can: its powers are wondrous great, its pains no tongue can tell, its bliss no heart conceive, crowns cannot recompense its torments, heaven scarce supplies its joys. My stake is of this value: oh counsel me how I shall save it. _Isab._ Alas! that counsel's much beyond my wisdom's force, I see no way to help you. _Cam._ And yet 'tis sure there's one. _Isab._ What? _Cam._ Death.