Dal. Did the Conde leave me nothing in his will?
Mess. Not a cross, madam.
Dal. There's the same payment for your news; be gone, poor fellow. [Exit Messenger.
Carl. At least I have the satisfaction, that he's discovered as well as I am. [Throwing off some part of his disguise.] Now, Sancho, you are welcome to the discovery of your fine intrigue.
Lop. Then, Sancho, I make good my word to you; since the Conde is dead, you stand fairest for my daughter;—and you, cousin Carlos, with your wit and your poverty, are in statu quo.—Come away, son-in-law, and leave the forsaken lover to make himself a willow garland.
[Exeunt Sancho, Lopez, and Dalinda.
Carl. Yet if I could hinder Sancho from marrying her, I should make myself some satisfaction. I'll think on't farther; and something comes into my head already.
[Stands musing.
Enter Alphonso.
Alph. Now, Carlos, what make you here in this disguise? I have been looking for you at least half an hour.