San. I, and my master.
Lop. I can't stay.
San. You can indeed, Sir.
[Laying hold on him.
Car. Whither in such haste, honest Lopez! What! upon some love errand?
Lop. Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon, but I was going——
Car. I guess where; but you need not be shy of me any more, thy master and I are no longer rivals; I have yielded up the cause; the lady will have it so, so I submit.
Lop. Is it possible, Sir, shall I then live to see my master and you friends again?
San. Yes; and what's better, thou and I shall be friends too. There will be no more fear of Christian bloodshed. I give thee up Jacinta; she's a slippery hussy, so master and I are going to match ourselves elsewhere.