Mend. To wait upon you, Blanca.
Blan. Nay, Don Mendo,
Least need of that.
Mend. Oh, Blanca, Heaven knows
How much I have desired to talk with you!
Blan. And to what purpose, sir?
No longer in your power—perhaps, nor will—
To do as well as talk.
Mend. If but to say
How to my heart it goes seeing you still