San. 'Tis turned to earnest.
Dal. You know 'twas of my conception.
San. And of your bringing forth too.
Dal. What did I bring forth?
San. A bastard.
Dal. O impudent!
San. Woman.
Dal. What proof have you of that scandal?
San. This, with a pox t'ye. [Throws her the letter.
Patience, oh ye gods! [Exit.
[She takes up the note, and, as she is reading it, re-enter Carlos.