Oliv. No, you carry the marks about you; that rueful phiz could never belong to a bachelor. Besides, there's an odd appearance on your temples—does your hat sit easily?
Car. By all the thorns of matrimony, if——
Oliv. Poor man! how natural to swear by what one feels—but why were you in such haste to gather the thorns of matrimony? Bless us! had you but looked about you a little, what a market might have been made of that fine, proper, promising person of yours.
Car. Confound thee, confound thee! If thou art a wife, may thy husband plague thee with jealousies, and thou never be able to give him cause for them; and if thou art a maid, may'st thou be an old one! [Going, r. meets Don Julio.] Oh, Julio, look not that way; there's a tongue will stun thee!
Julio. Heaven be praised! I love female prattle. A woman's tongue can never scare me. Which of these two goldfinches makes the music?
Car. [Crosses to Victoria.] Oh, this is as silent as a turtle—[Taking Victoria's hand.]—only coos now and then,—Perhaps you don't hate a married man, sweet one?
Vict. You guess right; I love a married man.
Car. Hah, say'st thou so? wilt thou love me?
Vict. Will you let me?
Car. Let thee, my charmer! how I'll cherish thee for't. What would I not give for thy heart!