The finest diamonds, you know, the roughest—
Oh, I rejoice my ancestor’s estate
Shall to my grandchildren revert again!
For this I tell you—one, I care not which,
But one of you, shall marry Don Torribio:
And let not her your cousin does not choose,
For one more courtly think herself reserved;
By Heaven she shall marry, if e’er marry,
One to the full as rough and country-like.
What, I to see my wealth, so hardly won,