Alon. Faith, Sir, too long by at least an Hour.
Car. I say again, what are you, Sir?
Alon. A Man I am, and they call me Alonzo.
Car. How! I hope not the great fighting Colonel whom my Son serv’d as a Voluntier in Flanders.
Alon. Even he, Sir.
Car. Worse and worse, I shall grow mad, to think that in spite of all my Care, Euphemia should marry with so notorious a Man of War.
Hau. How! is this Alonzo, and am I cozen’d? pray tell me truly, are you not me indeed?
Alon. All over, Sir, only the inside a little less Fool.
Hau. So here’s fine juggling—are not you a rare Lady, hah? [To Euphemia; crys.
Euph. I assure you, Sir, if this Man had not past for you, I had never had him.