Dal. Oh abominable!
Lop. Why, thou ungrateful fellow! wouldst thou make a slave of my daughter? And leave her no business, that is to say, no authority in her own house?
Dal. Ay, and to call fine young gentlemen fops too? To lock me up from visitants, which are the only comfort of a disconsolate, miserable, married woman!
Lop. An' 'twere not for fear thou shouldst beat me, I could find in my heart to beat thee.—Don Sancho, I have an olla at home, and you shall be welcome to it.—Farewell, kinsman. [To Carl.
[Exeunt Lop. and San. leading out Dal.
Carl. Now, if I had another head, I could find in my heart to run this head against that wall. Nature has given me my portion in sense, with a pox to her, and turned me out into the wide world to starve upon it. She has given Sancho an empty noddle; but fortune, in revenge, has filled his pockets: just a lord's estate in land and wit. Well, I have lost Dalinda; and something must be done to undermine Sancho in her good opinion. Some pernicious counsel must be given him. He is my prince, and I am his statesman; and when our two interests come to clash, I hope to make a mere monarch of him[57]: and my hunger is somewhat in my way to quicken my invention.
Wants whets the wit, 'tis true; but wit, not blest
With fortune's aid, makes beggars at the best.
Wit is not fed, but sharpened with applause;
For wealth is solid food, and wit but hungry sauce. [Exit.