Marry a scold.

I:2:47 LEON.
In Burgos now, methinks,
Marriage is scarce the mode. Our princess frowns,
It seems, upon her suitors.

I:2:48 SIDO.
Is it true
The match is off?

I:2:49 LEON.
'Tis said.

I:2:50 COUN.
The match is off
You did not tell me this strange news, Alarcos.

I:2:51 SIDO.
Did he not tell you how--

I:2:52 ALAR.
In truth, good sirs,
My wife and I are somewhat strangers here,
And things that are of moment to the minds
That long have dwelt on them, to us are nought.

[To the Countess.]

There was a sort of scene to-day at Court;
The Princess fainted: we were all dismissed,
Somewhat abruptly; but, in truth, I deem
These rumours have no source but in the tongues
Of curious idlers.

I:2:53 SIDO.
Faith, I hold them true.
Indeed they're very rife.

I:2:54 LEON.
Poor man, methinks
His is a lot forlorn, at once to lose
A mistress and a crown!

I:2:55 COUN.
Yet both may bring
Sorrow and cares. But little joy, I ween,
Dwells with a royal bride, too apt to claim
The homage she should yield.

I:2:56 SIDO.
I would all wives
Hold with your Countess in this pleasing creed.

I:2:57 ALAR.
She has her way: it is a cunning wench
That knows to wheedle. Burgos still maintains
Its fame for noble fabrics. Since my time
The city's spread.

I:2:58 SIDO.
Ah! you're a traveller, Count.
And yet we have not lagged.

I:2:59 COUN.
The Infanta, sirs,
Was it a kind of swoon?

I:2:60 ALAR.
Old Lara lives
Still in his ancient quarter?

I:2:61 LEON.
With the rats
That share his palace. You spoke, Madam?