Leo. Shall I venture, Isabella?
Isab. You know best.
Enter Don Guzman.
Jacin. Marry, methinks he knows best of us all, for here he comes.
Don Guz. Forgive me, lovely Leonora; 'tis the last Time, perhaps, that I may beg your Pity. My Rival is not far off: Excess of Modesty is now our Ruin. Break through it, for this Moment you have left, and own, to your old Father, how you love. He once did so himself; our Scene of Sorrow may, perhaps, recall some small Remembrance of his tender Years, and melt him into Mercy.
Leo. Alas! Don Guzman——
Jacin. O Heavens! Madam——
Leo. What's the Matter?
Jacin. Y' are undone; here's your Father.
Isab. What an unlucky Accident!