Don Ferd. Not you, not you, so prythee don't tease me. Yet pray stay—gentle nun, was it not Donna Clara d'Almanza just parted from you?
Don. Clara. Clara d'Almanza, signor, is not yet out of the garden.
Don Ferd. Ay, ay, I knew I was right! And pray is not that gentleman, now at the porch with her, Antonio d'Ercilla?
Don. Clara. It is indeed, signor.
Don Ferd. So, so; but now one question more—can you inform me for what purpose they have gone away?
Don. Clara. They are gone to be married, I believe.
Don Ferd. Very well—enough. Now if I don't mar their wedding! [Exit.]
Don. Clara. [Unveils.] I thought jealousy had made lovers quick- sighted, but it has made mine blind. Louisa's story accounts to me for this error, and I am glad to find I have power enough over him to make him so unhappy. But why should not I be present at his surprise when undeceived? When he's through the porch, I'll follow him; and, perhaps, Louisa shall not singly be a bride.
SONG.
Adieu, thou dreary pile, where never dies
The sullen echo of repentant sighs!
Ye sister mourners of each lonely cell
Inured to hymns and sorrow, fare ye well!
For happier scenes I fly this darksome grove,
To saints a prison, but a tomb to love! [Exit.]