Car. And yet you must say more; nothing can lessen my torment, but a farther knowledge of what causes my misery. Speak then! Have I any thing to hope?
Lop. Nothing; but that you may be a happier bachelor, than my master may probably be a married man.
Car. Married, say'st thou?
Lop. I did, Sir, and believe he'll say so too in a twelvemonth.
Car. O torment!—--But give me more on't: When, how, to whom, where?
Lop. Yesterday, to Leonora, by the parson, in the pantry.
Car. Look to't, if this be false, thy life shall pay the torment thou hast given me: be gone.
Lop. With the body and the soul o'me.
[Ex. Lopez.
San. Base news, Master.