[ACT V.]
Enter Lopez.
Oho! my good Signior Don John, you are mistaken in your Man; I am your humble Valet, 'tis true, and I am to obey you; but when you have got the Devil in your Body, and are upon your Rantipole Adventures, you shall Quixote it by yourself, for Lopez. Yonder he is, waiting for poor Guzman, with a Sword of a Fathom and a Half; a Dagger for close engagement; and (if I don't mistake) a Pocket-pistol for extraordinary Occasions. I think I am not in the wrong to keep a little out of the Way: These Matters will end in a Court of Justice, or I'm wrong in my Foresight: Now that being a Place where I am pretty well known, and not over-much reputed, I believe 'tis best, neither to come in for Prisoner nor Evidence. But hold; yonder comes another Toledo! Don Guzman I presume, but I presume wrong, it is—who is it? Don Pedro, by all the Powers! What the Pox does he here, or what the Pox do I here? I'm sure as Matters stand, I ought to fly him like a Creditor; but he sees me, 'tis too late to slip him.
Enter Don Pedro.
Don Ped. How now, Lopez; where are you going?
Lop. I'm going, Sir, I——I'm going—if you please——I'm going about my Business.
Don Ped. From whence do you come?
Lop. Only, only, Sir, from—taking the Air a little, I'm mightily muddled with a Whur——round about in my Head, for this Day or two; I'm going home to be let Blood, as fast as I can, Sir.
Don Ped. Hold, Sir; I'll let you Blood here.