_Another place in the neighbourhood of Madrid._
_Enter_ LOUIS _and_ DIEGO.
LOUIS. O Diego, I am lost, I am mad!
DIEGO. So we are all.
LOUIS. ’Tis not with wine; I'm drunk with too much
horror,
Inflam’d with rage, to see us two made bawds
To Roderigo’s lust: did not the old man
Name De Cortes, Pedro de Cortes?
DIEGO. Sure he did.
LOUIS. O Diego, as thou lov’st me, nay, on the forfeit
Of thine own life or mine, seal up thy lips,
Let ’em not name De Cortes! stay, stay, stay;
Roderigo has into his father’s house
A passage through a garden——
DIEGO. Yes, my lord.
LOUIS. Thither I must, find Roderigo out,
And check him, check him home: if he but dare—
No more!—Diego, along! my soul does fight
A thousand battles blacker than this night. [_Exeunt._