Hyp.  Well, it is a woman! 
But, look you, from the coffer of his heart
He brings forth precious jewels to adorn her,
As pious priests adorn some favorite saint
With gems and gold, until at length she gleams
One blaze of glory.  Without these, you know,
And the priest’s benediction, ’t is a doll.

  Don C. Well, well! who is this doll?

  Hyp.  Why, who do you think?

  Don C. His cousin Violante.

Hyp.  Guess again. 
To ease his laboring heart, in the last storm
He threw her overboard, with all her ingots.

  Don C. I cannot guess; so tell me who it is.

  Hyp.  Not I.

  Don.  C. Why not?

Hyp. (mysteriously).  Why?  Because Mari Franca
Was married four leagues out of Salamanca!

  Don C. Jesting aside, who is it?

  Hyp.  Preciosa.

Don C. Impossible!  The Count of Lara tells me
She is not virtuous.

Hyp.  Did I say she was? 
The Roman Emperor Claudius had a wife
Whose name was Messalina, as I think;
Valeria Messalina was her name. 
But hist!  I see him yonder through the trees,
Walking as in a dream.

  Don C. He comes this way.

Hyp.  It has been truly said by some wise man,
That money, grief, and love cannot be hidden.

(Enter Victorian in front.)

Vict.  Where’er thy step has passed is holy ground! 
These groves are sacred!  I behold thee walking
Under these shadowy trees, where we have walked
At evening, and I feel thy presence now;
Feel that the place has taken a charm from thee,
And is forever hallowed.

Hyp.  Mark him well! 
See how he strides away with lordly air,
Like that odd guest of stone, that grim Commander
Who comes to sup with Juan in the play.

  Don C. What ho!  Victorian!

  Hyp.  Wilt thou sup with us?

Vict.  Hola! amigos!  Faith, I did not see you. 
How fares Don Carlos?

  Don C. At your service ever.

Vict.  How is that young and green-eyed Gaditana
That you both wot of?

Don C. Ay, soft, emerald eyes! 
She has gone back to Cadiz.

  Hyp.  Ay de mi!

Vict.  You are much to blame for letting her go back. 
A pretty girl; and in her tender eyes
Just that soft shade of green we sometimes see
In evening skies.

Hyp.  But, speaking of green eyes,
Are thine green?

  Vict.  Not a whit.  Why so?

Hyp.  I think
The slightest shade of green would be becoming,
For thou art jealous.

  Vid.  No, I am not jealous.

  Hyp.  Thou shouldst be.

  Vict.  Why?

Hyp.  Because thou art in love. 
And they who are in love are always jealous. 
Therefore thou shouldst be.