Don. Car. But, my dear friend, how can you think to please a lady with such a face?

Isaac. Why, what’s the matter with the face! I think it is a very engaging face; and, I am sure, a lady must have very little taste who could dislike my beard.—[Sees Donna Louisa.]—See now! I’ll die if here is not a little damsel struck with it already.

Don. Louisa. Signor, are you disposed to oblige a lady who greatly wants your assistance.

[Unveils.

Isaac. Egad. a very pretty black-eyed girl! she has certainly taken a fancy to me, Carlos. First, ma’am, I must beg the favour of your name.

Don. Louisa. [Aside.] So! it’s well I am provided.—[Aloud.]—My name, sir, is Donna Clara d’Almanza.

Isaac. What? Don Guzman’s daughter? I’faith, I just now heard she was missing.

Don. Louisa. But sure, sir, you have too much gallantry and honour to betray me, whose fault is love?

Isaac. So! a passion for me! poor girl! Why, ma’am, as for betraying you, I don’t see how I could get anything by it; so, you may rely on my honour; but as for your love, I am sorry your case is so desperate.

Don. Louisa. Why so, signor?

Isaac. Because I am positively engaged to another—an’t I, Carlos?

Don. Louisa. Nay, but hear me.

Isaac. No, no; what should I hear for? It is impossible for me to court you in an honourable way; and for anything else, if I were to comply now, I suppose you have some ungrateful brother, or cousin, who would want to cut my throat for my civility—so, truly, you had best go home again.

Don. Louisa. [Aside.] Odious wretch!—[Aloud.]—But, good signor, it is Antonio d’Ercilla, on whose account I have eloped.

Isaac. How! what! it is not with me, then, that you are in love?

Don. Louisa. No, indeed, it is not.

Isaac. Then you are a forward, impertinent simpleton! and I shall certainly acquaint your father.

Don. Louisa. Is this your gallantry?

Isaac. Yet hold—Antonio d’Ercilla, did you say? egad, I may make something of this—Antonio d’Ercilla?

Don. Louisa. Yes; and if ever you wish to prosper in love, you will bring me to him.

Isaac. By St. Iago and I will too!—Carlos, this Antonio is one who rivals me (as I have heard) with Louisa—now, if I could hamper him with this girl, I should have the field to myself; hey, Carlos! A lucky thought, isn’t it?

Don Car. Yes, very good—very good!

Isaac. Ah! this little brain is never at a loss—cunning Isaac! cunning rogue! Donna Clara, will you trust yourself awhile to my friend’s direction?

Don. Louisa. May I rely on you, good signor?