D. of Eboli. My lord.
Don Car. Who calls me?
D. of Eboli. You must stay.
Don Car. What news of fresh affliction can you bear?
D. of Eboli. Suppose it were the queen; you'd stay for her?
Don Car. For her? yes, stay an age, for ever stay;
Stay even till time itself should pass away;
Fix here a statue never to remove,
An everlasting monument of love.
Though, may a thing so wretched as I am
But the least place in her remembrance claim?
D. of Eboli. Yes, if you dare believe me, sir, you do;
We both can talk of nothing else but you:
Whilst from the theme even emulation springs,
Each striving who shall say the kindest things.
Don Car. But from that charity I poorly live,
Which only pities, and can nothing give.
D. of Eboli. Nothing! Propose what 'tis you claim, and I,
For aught you know, may be security.
Don Car. No, madam, what's my due none e'er can pay;
There stands that angel, Honour, in the way,
Watching his charge with never-sleeping eyes,
And stops my entrance into paradise.