Henriquez is a man whose native feelings
Of honour and of justice rise indignant
Against the slightest breach of honest faith.
The interests of his house to him were nothing
Opposed to generous ties—to simple right.
I will to him—ah, no! I dare not do it.
(Looking out.) He is at hand. That paper keeps his eye
Intently occupied.—What can it be?
Perhaps some letter dropp'd by poor Antonio,
And then all is discovered.
Enter Henriquez.
As a most worthless thing. May I presume?
I am not curious.
HENRIQUEZ.
Not being curious, just to peep into it.
Well; it might case thy silken threads, perhaps,
Or wrap thy scented comfits. Take it then.
(Offering her the letter, and then drawing it back.)
No; spells lurk in such crooked lines as these
To work unhappy fancies out of nothing.
Perhaps some hateful witch has mutter'd o'er it
Her blasting benison; thou shalt not have it:
I'll put it up to light my ev'ning lamp.
Thou goest?
