Carl. No, for that's to be a pimp for him.
San. Right; therefore I will leave her.
Carl. Then go back, and quarrel with her and her father; go, I say, immediately, before your virtue cools.
San. I'll give them their own, I'll warrant them. What, make a shoeing-horn of a man of honour? [Exit Sancho.
Carl. [alone] If the Conde be in love, then why should Lopez admit of Sancho for a suitor? if not, the fool is in the right, that it was only feigned, to draw him on. However, my advice will strike on both sides; for, if Sancho quarrels, he's discarded; and for the Conde—stay a little—what, if I should play this Conde? I know him, and can mimic him exactly; 'tis but a jest if I am discovered; and if the Conde loves her, and she him, then I marry her in his shape.—Oh, they are coming out to quarrel in the open air, for the house is grown too hot for them; but I dare not stay to see the battle, for fear of getting blows on both sides. [Exit Carlos.
Enter Lopez, Dalinda, and Sancho.
Lop. I'll wait upon you out of my house, however.
San. Father-in-law, that might have been, no more ceremonies; I'll be no shoeing-horn for any man.
Lop. You would not be my daughter's hindrance?
San. There's no more to be said on't; but either a bargain, or no bargain.