Duchess. You are mad, boy.
Edward. That were not strange, since love is said to be a madness.
Duchess. You almost make me lose my judgment.
Edward. Would you prefer to lose me?
Duchess. Enough, Edward. We must leave this house which, in an evil moment, I entered to-day for the first time.
Edward. But say—is not Inés sweet?
Duchess. Assuredly—as an angel of God's heaven, when I first beheld her, and now she looks like the angel of sorrow.
Edward. Does not the whole world regard Don Lorenzo as an accomplished scholar, and have you yourself not said that he is a saint?
Duchess. It would be injustice to deny the value of a reputation so illustrious as his, or the keenness of his sense of honour.
Edward. Then there is no objection to him.