_Car_. Come nearer, Friend; dost think thou canst manage a Plot well? _Guil_. As any Man in _Cadiz_, Sir, with good instructions. _Car_. That thou shalt have, thou art apprehensive. _Guil_. So, so, I have a pretty memory for mischief. _Ant_. Hast thou Assurance and Courage? _Guil_. To kill the honestest Man in _Spain_, if I be well paid. _Car_. That thou shalt be. _Guil_. I’ll do’t, say no more, I’ll do’t. _Car_. But canst thou swear stoutly, and lye handsomely. _Guil_. Prettily, by Nature, Sir, but with good instructions I shall improve; I thank Heaven I have Docity, or so. _Car_. Thou want’st not Confidence. _Guil_. No, nor Impudence neither; how should a man live in this wicked world without that Talent? _Ant_. Then know our Design is only comical, though if you manage not Matters well, it may prove tragical to you; in fine, dost think thou canst personate a Lord? _Guil_. A Lord! marry, that’s a hard question: but what sort of a Lord? _Car_. Why, any Lord. _Guil_. That I cannot do, but I can do some sort of a Lord, as some Lords are wiser than other-some; there is your witty Lord,--him I defie; your wise Lord, that is to say, your knavish Lord, him I renounce; then there’s your Politick Lord, him I wou’d have hang’d; then there’s your Foolish Lord, let him follow the Politician; then there’s your brisk, pert, noisy Lord, and such a small insignificant Fiend I care not if I am possest with; I shall deal well enough with a Devil of his capacity. _Car_. Very well, then there needs no more but that you go along with my man to my house, my Authority shall secure you from all the injuries that shall accrue from a discovery, but I hope none will happen: Equipage, Clothes and Money we’ll furnish you with.--Go home with him, and dress, and practise the Don till we come, who will give you ample instructions what to do. _Guil_. And if I do not fit you with a Don better than _Don Del Phobos_, or _Don Quixote_, let me be hang’d up for the Sign of the Black Boy on my own Poles at a _Spanish_ Inn door. _Ant_. We’ll be with you presently. _Guil_. And if you find me not en Cavalier, say Clothes, Garniture, Points, and Feathers have lost their Power of making one. [_Ex_. Guz. _and_ Page, _and_ Guil. _Enter, opening the door_, Jacinta. _Car_. Hah, the Door opens, and surely ‘tis a Woman that advances: dear _Antonio_, wait a little farther;--who’s there? _Jac_. Hah, if it should be old _Francisco_ now. _Car_. Let it be who it will, I’ll tell my name, it cannot injure either;--I’m _Carlos_, who are you? _Jac_. A thing that looks for him you name--_Jacinta_;--are you alone? _Car_. Never since _Julia_ did possess my heart; what news, my dearest Messenger of Love? what may I hope?-- _Enter_ Julia. _Jul_. All that the kindest Mistress can bestow, If _Carlos_ loves, and still will keep his Vows. _Car_. _Julia_, my Life, my Soul, what happy Stars Conspir’d to give me this dear lucky minute?