_Dal._ You speak more truly than you think. I have shewn it; for, since I must confess the truth to you, I am no fortune: my father, though he bears it high, to put me off, has mortgaged his estate: we keep servants for shew; and when we should pay their wages, pick a quarrel with their service, and turn them off pennyless. There is neither sheet nor shirt in the whole family; the lodging-rooms are furnished with loam; and bare mattresses are the beds. The dining-room plays the hypocrite for all the house; for all the furniture is there. When strangers dine with us, we eat before the servants, and then they fast; but when we dine alone, 'tis all a muss[59]: they scramble for victuals, before 'tis served up, and then we fast. _Carl._ The spirit of famine comes upon me, at the very description of it. _Dal._ Now, since neither you nor I have fortunes, what should we do together, unless we should turn canibals, and eat up one another? But if you would make up this foul business, and help me to that rich fool Sancho, I say no more, but---- _Carl._ But thou wouldst be kind to me? speak out, for I dare not trust thee, thou art such a woman. _Dal._ You should---- _Carl._ What should I? _Dal._ Why, you should---- _Carl._ Well, well, I will believe thee, though my heart misgives me plaguily. And therefore, in the first place, I beg your pardon for the scandal I have laid upon you. In the next, I restore your virginity and take away your bastard. _Dal._ And you'll tell Sancho 'twas a forged letter? _Carl._ No doubt on't; for I wrote it to myself; and out of revenge invented the whole story. _Dal._ But suppose, dear cousin, that Sancho should not believe all this to be your invention; and should still suspect the letter to be true? _Carl._ I can easily convince him, by writing the same hand again, in which that letter was indited. _Dal._ That's an excellent expedient; but do it now; for a woman can never be cleared too soon. _Carl._ But when you are cleared, you will forget your promise to me---- _Dal._ But if I am not cleared, I cannot marry him; nor be put in a way to keep my promise. Come, I'll hold my hand; write upon it, I always carry pen and ink about me. _Carl._ Let me seal my affection first. [_Kisses her hand._] Now, what should I write? _Dal._ Only these words at the bottom of the note, in the same character:--_This letter was wholly forged by me, Carlos_. [He kneels and writes. _Carl._ There 'tis.---- [_Gives it her, she puts it in her pocket._ But now tell me truly, what made you confess a couple of bastards? have you indeed been dabbling? _Dal._ Who, I confess it! Oh thou impudent fellow! I only soothed thee up in thy villainy, to make thee betray thy own plot. I confessed seemingly, to make thee confess really. Heaven and thy own conscience know I did. [_Seems to weep._ _Carl._ But when you're married, you'll remember your promise? _Dal._ What promise? _Carl._ That I should---- _Dal._ Should what?