eturn to give him honest burial, and pay for masses for his
guilty soul. [_Exit._

[_Antonio rises slowly, resumes his friar's dress, and comes forward._]

_Ant._ That cowardly rascal, Sancho, had nearly brought me to life
again, instead of having killed me, as he said he had. Pitiful
scoundrel, to thrust at a dead man! He'll never kill one living. Nina, I
respect thee; yet must we part, for 'tis evident thou lov'st another.
I'll meet them in this grove, and persuade them to marry. As for Beppa,
if I am missing, 'tis clear she'll never look for me. [_Exit._

_Scene IV._

_Another Part of the Garden._

_Enter Nina and Sancho._

_Nina._ Nay, no more, Sancho. To me there's something dreadful in such a
hasty fresh espousal. My husband's body yet uninterred, still would you
have me enter into fresh bonds.

_San._ He was no husband to you, Nina, but a worthless wretch, who
deceived you. Remember, it is for years that I have loved you. Saint
Petronila be my witness.

_Nina._ I know it, Sancho, and wish I had never married Lopez. Why did
you leave me?

_San._ I could but leave you, when I followed my master: but remember,
when we parted, I offered you my troth. You have been unjust to me, and
owe some reparation; by Saint Petronila, you do!

_Nina._ And in good time I'll make it, Sancho.

_San._ The present is good time; now we are together, and my master is
no more. Come, Nina, keep your promise, and the Saint will reward you.

_Nina._ Nay, Sancho, do not thus persuade me. Were I to yield to your
wish, you would hate me after we were married.

_San._ Never; by this kiss (_kisses her_), I swear. I have you now, and
will not part with you.

[_Nina throws herself into his arms._

_Enter Antonio in friar's gown and hood._

_Ant._ (_in a feigned voice_). Good hugging people, are you man and wife?

_San._ We are not yet, but soon we hope to be.

_Ant._ The sooner it were better, for this dalliance
In the ev'ning, in a sequester'd grove,
Is most unseemly, if not dangerous.
Woman, lovest thou this man?--

_Nina._ I do, most holy father.

_Ant._ And I must tell thee, maiden, it were better
That you delay no longer. I have witness'd
Your stolen embraces; and, by Holy Church!
I think it right that you be married straight,
Ere vice usurps the throne that should be held
By virtue only. Children, not far from hence
There is a chapel, where attending priests
Chant holy masses for a soul's repose.
The