Mari. And why, pray?
Brig. Oh, madam, I know who it is deals most in sheep’s eyes.
Enter Don Alonso.
Alon. (talking to himself as he enters). How lucky he should have pitcht on the very one I wanted! (Aloud.) Oh, Eugenia, I would speak with you. Nay, retire not, Clara, for I want you to pardon me for the very thing Eugenia is to thank me for.
Clara. A riddle, sir. I pardon you?
Alon. Listen, both of you. Your cousin Don Torribio has declared his love for Eugenia: and though I could have wished to marry you, Clara, first, and to the head of our house too, yet my regret at your missing it is almost cancelled by the joy of your sister’s acceptance.
Clara. And so with me, believe me, sir. I am well content to be slighted so long as she is happy: which may she be with my cousin these thousand years to come. (Aside.) Oh, providential rejection!
[Exit.
Torribio (peeping in). Ah! what a wry face she makes!
Alon. And you, Eugenia, what say you?