Fel. What use going to a festival if one has no spirits for it?
Hern. Humph, what makes you out of spirits?
Fel. Why should you ask?
Hern. Nay, then, you have already answer’d me. You are in love.
Fel. I scarce know whether you are right or wrong, Hernando. I have indeed seen a lady whose very beauty forbids all hope of my attaining it.
Hern. How so, sir?
Fel. She who has enslaved Don Juan and Don Pedro has fetter’d me, at last! I should care little for their rivalry, had not each made me keeper of his love, so that—Hark!
Mari Nuño (within). Don Felix!
Fel. Who is that?
Hern. Some one calling you.