Mess. [To Dal.] Madam, I am sent to you on a sad errand from the late Conde Don Alonzo, who was killed in the last battle.
Lop. You are mistaken, friend; for here he stands alive and well. [Pointing to Sancho.] And, for fear of failing, here's a counterpart of him. [Pointing to Carlos.
Mess. Do not abuse yourself, sennor; neither of these is the true Conde: I took him from under the horses' feet, and he had only life enough to say, remember me to my fair Dalinda.
Lop. [To San.] What does your lordship say to this?
San. He was fairly killed, I must confess; but I can give you a better account of his lordship afterwards.
Lop. You? why, who are you?
San. Nay, I am he too.
Mess. You see he's a counterfeit; and so is the other.
Lop. 'Tis too true.