Enter Ambrosio.
Mar. My Father return’d! [Bows, and goes to him, and then leads Alonzo to him.
Sir, this is the gallant Man that was design’d to be your Son-in-Law.
Amb. And that you were not so, Sir, was my misfortune only.
Alon. I am glad to find it no slight to my Person,
Or unknown Quality that depriv’d me of that Honour.
Mar. To convince you of that, Alonzo, I know my Father will bestow this other Sister on you; more fair and young, and equally as rich. [Ambrosio calls Marcel aside.
Alon. How, his Sister! Fool that I was, I could not guess at this; and now have I been lying and swearing all this while how much I lov’d her. Well, take one time with another, a Man falls into more Danger by this amorous Humour, than he gets good turns by it.
Mar. Pardon me, Sir, I knew not you had design’d her elsewhere—Dear Alonzo, my Father—
Alon. Ay, Sir, I am much oblig’d to him. Oh Pox, would I were well with Euphemia.