Enter Guzman, runs against Carlos.
Guz. My Lord, ‘tis I, your trusty Trojan, Guzman.—what makes you here, Sir, so near the Door of your Mistress?
Car. To wait my Doom; what Tidings hast thou, Guzman?
Guz. Why, Sir, I went as you directed me, to Don Baltazer’s.
Car. And didst thou deliver it?
Guz. And the first thing I met with was old Francisco.
Car. So.
Guz. To whom I civilly addrest my self—told him, you presented your Service to him,—sent to know how his Lady and he did. Which word Lady I no sooner named, but I thought he would have saluted me with a Cudgel,—in fine, observing her behind him, whom he shelter’d all he could with his Cloke, I taking an occasion to whisper him, gave it her over his shoulder, whilst she return’d some Smiles and Looks of Joy,—but for an answer, ‘twas impossible to get the least sign of one.
Car. No matter, that joy was evident she wisht me one, and by the first opportunity my diligent waiting will be recompensed; but where hast thou been all this while?
Guz. Finding out the Chimney-sweeper you spoke of, Sir, and whom you ordered me to bring this Evening.