Don Ant. Why, Louisa—why should you go there?
Don. Louisa. I have my reasons, and you must not be seen to go with me; I shall write from thence to my father; perhaps, when he finds what he has driven me to, he may relent.
Don Ant. I have no hope from him. O Louisa! in these arms should be your sanctuary.
Don. Louisa. Be patient but for a little while—my father cannot force me from thence. But let me see you there before evening, and I will explain myself.
Don Ant. I shall obey.
Don. Louisa. Come, friend. Antonio, Carlos has been a lover himself.
Don Ant. Then he knows the value of his trust.
Don Car. You shall not find me unfaithful.
TRIO.
Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast
Where love has been received a welcome guest;
As wandering saints poor huts have sacred made,
He hallows every heart he once has sway'd,
And, when his presence we no longer share,
Still leaves compassion as a relic there. [Exeunt.]