1 Soldier. No; but we’ll secure you for a traitor, and for being in a plot against the state.

Gom, Who, I in a plot!  O Lord!  O Lord!  I never durst be in a plot:  Why, how can you in conscience suspect a rich citizen of so much wit as to make a plotter?  There are none but poor rogues, and those that can’t live without it, that are in plots.

2 Soldier. Away with him, away with him.

Gom. O my gold! my wife! my wife! my gold!  As I hope to be saved now, I know no more of the plot than they that made it.
                                    [They carry him off, and exeunt.

Lor. Thus far we have sailed with a merry gale, and now we have the Cape of Good Hope in sight; the trade-wind is our own, if we can but double it. [He looks out. [Aside.] Ah, my father and Pedro stand at the corner of the street with company; there’s no stirring till they are past.

Enter ELVIRA with a casket.

Elv. Am I come at last into your arms?

Lor. Fear nothing; the adventure’s ended, and the knight may carry off the lady safely.

Elv. I’m so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am at liberty; but stand panting, like a bird that has often beaten her wings in vain against her cage, and at last dares hardly venture out, though she sees it open.

Dom. Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for you; and thereupon I give you my benediction.

Lor. ’Tis not so free as you suppose; for there’s an old gentleman of my acquaintance, that blocks up the passage at the corner of the street.

Dom. What have you gotten there under your arm, daughter? somewhat, I hope, that will bear your charges in your pilgrimage.

Lor. The friar has an hawk’s eye to gold and jewels.

Elv. Here’s that will make you dance without a fiddle, and provide better entertainment for us, than hedges in summer, and barns in winter.  Here’s the very heart, and soul, and life-blood of Gomez; pawns in abundance, old gold of widows, and new gold of prodigals, and pearls and diamonds of court ladies, till the next bribe helps their husbands to redeem them.

Dom. They are the spoils of the wicked, and the church endows you with them.

Lor. And, faith, we’ll drink the church’s health out of them.  But all this while I stand on thorns.  Pr’ythee, dear, look out, and see if the coast be free for our escape; for I dare not peep, for fear of being known. [ELVIRA goes to look, and GOMEZ comes
                               running in upon her:  She shrieks out.

Gom. Thanks to my stars, I have recovered my own territories.—­What do I see?  I’m ruined!  I’m undone!  I’m betrayed!

Dom. [Aside.] What a hopeful enterprise is here spoiled!