Yes truly, had I. Michael Perez: Was she a Maid do you think? Margarita: I dare not swear for her, For she had but a scant Fame. Michael Perez: Was she your Kinswoman? Margarita: Not that I ever knew, now I look better I think you married her, 'give you joy, Sir, You may reclaim her, 'twas a wild young Girl. Michael Perez: Give me a halter: is not this house mine, Madam? Was not she owner of it, pray speak truly? Margarita: No, certainly, I am sure my money paid for it, And I ne'r remember yet I gave it you, Sir. Michael Perez: The Hangings and the Plate too? Margarita: All are mine, Sir, And every thing you see about the building, She only kept my house when I was absent, And so ill kept it, I was weary of her. Sanchio: What a Devil ails he? Juan de Castro: He's possest I'll assure you. Michael Perez: Where is your Maid? Margarita: Do not you know that have her? She is yours now, why should I look after her? Since that first hour I came I never saw her. Michael Perez: I saw her later, would the Devil had had her, It is all true I find, a wild-fire take her. Juan de Castro: Is thy Wife with Child, _Don Michael_? thy excellent wife. Art thou a Man yet? Alonzo: When shall we come and visit thee? Sanchio: And eat some rare fruit? thou hast admirable Orchards, 208] You are so jealous now, pox o' your jealousie, How scurvily you look! Michael Perez: Prithee leave fooling, I am in no humour now to fool and prattle, Did she ne'r play the wag with you? Margarita: Yes many times, so often that I was asham'd to keep her, But I forgave her, Sir, in hope she would mend still, And had not you o'th' instant married her, I had put her off. Michael Perez: I thank ye, I am blest still, Which way so e'r I turn I am a made man, Miserably gull'd beyond recovery. Juan de Castro: You'll stay and dine? Michael Perez: Certain I cannot, Captain, Hark in thine ear, I am the arrantst Puppy, The miserablest Ass, but I must leave ye, I am in haste, in haste, bless you, good Madam, And you prove as good as my Wife. [Exit. Leon: Will you come near, Sir, will your Grace but honour me, And taste our dinner? you are nobly welcome, All anger's past I hope, and I shall serve ye. Juan de Castro: Thou art the stock of men, and I admire thee. [Ex. Actus Quartus Scena Prima. [Enter _Perez_.] Michael Perez: