_Carl._ Must I tell you? _Dal._ No, I'll tell you; I said you should,--and so you shall,--be cozened in your expectation. _Carl._ I foreboded this, and yet was fool enough to trust thee. Give me back my letter. _Dal._ What, deliver up my evidence, that's the testimony of my virtue, and thy wickedness? _Carl._ I'll search your petticoat. _Dal._ Dare but touch my petticoat, and I'll cry out a rape against thee. _Carl._ Oh thou Eve of Genesis! thou wouldst have tempted the serpent, if thou hadst been there. _Dal._ The next news you hear is of my wedding; be patient, and you shall be invited to the dinner. _Carl._ I say no more; but I'll go home and indite iambics: thou shalt not want for an epithalamium; I'll do thy business in verse. [_Exit._ _Dal._ My comfort is, I have done your business in prose already. The wittiest men are all but women's tools; 'Tis our prerogative, to make them fools. For one sweet look, the rich, the beaux, the braves, And all mankind, run headlong to be slaves. Ours is the harvest which those Indians mow; They plough the deep, but we reap what they sow. [_Exit._ ACT V. SCENE I.--_Lopez's House._ _Enter_ SANCHO, LOPEZ, DALINDA. CARLOS _meeting them_. _Carl._ Give you joy, Mr Bridegroom and Mrs Bride; you see I have accepted your invitation. _San._ And thou art welcome, as a witness of my triumph. _Carl._ I could tell tales that would spoil your appetite, both to your dinner and your bride.--You think you are married to a vast fortune. _Dal._ A better, perhaps, than you imagine. _Lop._ For, if Sancho looks into his writings, he'll find that my estate was mortgaged to his father. _San._ Then would I had looked into my writings, before I had looked so far into your daughter. _Dal._ My father's fortune will be yours at last; and I have but redeemed it for you. _San._ I'm sure I'm married without redemption! _Carl._ You must take the good and the bad together; he that keeps a tame cat must be content to be scratched a little. _Dal._ The count's sister, I hope, has claws for you too. _Carl._ That was invented only in hopes of you, Dalinda; though now I thank my stars that I have missed you: for two wits without fortunes would be like two millstones without corn betwixt them; they would only grind upon one another, and make a terrible noise, but no meal would follow. _Enter a Nurse, leading a Boy and Girl._ _Nurse._ Madam, here are two poor orphans, that, hearing you are married, come to dine with you. _Dal._ [_Aside._] My two bastards! I am undone: what shall I do with them? _Lop._ [_Aside._] The devil take my damned grand-children for their unseasonable visit. _San._ Welcome, welcome: They're come a mumming[60] to grace my wedding, I'll warrant you. _Carl._ I begin to suspect they come to sup and lodge, as well as dine here.