Flo. Madam, make haste: get out of the backdoor,
Or you will certainly be met with.
Por. How vile a creature am I now become!
For, though in my own innocence secure,
To the censorious world who, like false glasses,
Mingling their own irregular figures,
Misreflect the object, I shall appear
Some sinful woman, sold to infamy.
Don A. Your own clear mind's the glass, which to yourself
Reflects yourself; and, trust me, madam,
W' are only happy then, when all our joys
Flow from ourselves, not from the people's voice.
Flo. Madam, they'll instantly be here.
Por. O, that Octavio should just now be absent!
But to expect till he return were madness.
Don A. Y' have reason, madam; and, if you dare trust
Your person to the conduct of a stranger,
Upon my honour, lady, I'll secure you,
Or perish in th' attempt.
Por. Generous sir, how shall a wretched maid,
Abandon'd by her fate to the pursuit
Of an inhuman brother, e'er be able
Either to merit or requite your favours?
Don A. I am th' oblig'd, if rightly understood,
Being o'erpaid by th' joy of doing good.
Por. Sir, I resign myself to your protection
With equal gratitude and confidence.
Don A. Come, madam, we must lose no time—
Diego, find out your master presently,
And tell him that, the danger not allowing
Our stay till his return, I shall convey
His mistress safely to a nunnery.