Don Jer. But you are his; and choice on one side is sufficient—two lovers should never meet in marriage—be you sour as you please, he is sweet-tempered; and for your good fruit, there’s nothing like ingrafting on a crab.

Don. Louisa. I detest him as a lover, and shall ten times more as a husband.

Don Jer. I don’t know that—marriage generally makes a great change—but, to cut the matter short, will you have him or not?

Don Louisa. There is nothing else I could disobey you in.

Don Jer. Do you value your father’s peace?

Don. Louisa. So much, that I will not fasten on him the regret of making an only daughter wretched.

Don Jer. Very well, ma’am, then mark me—never more will I see or converse with you till you return to your duty—no reply—this and your chamber shall be your apartments; I never will stir out without leaving you under lock and key, and when I’m at home no creature can approach you but through my library: we’ll try who can be most obstinate. Out of my sight!—there remain till you know your duty.

[Pushes her out.

Don Ferd. Surely, sir, my sister’s inclinations should be consulted in a matter of this kind, and some regard paid to Don Antonio, being my particular friend.

Don Jer. That, doubtless, is a very great recommendation!—I certainly have not paid sufficient respect to it.

Don Ferd. There is not a man living I would sooner choose for a brother-in-law.

Don Jer. Very possible; and if you happen to have e’er a sister, who is not at the same time a daughter of mine, I’m sure I shall have no objection to the relationship; but at present, if you please, we’ll drop the subject.

Don Ferd. Nay, sir, ’tis only my regard for my sister makes me speak.

Don Jer. Then, pray sir, in future, let your regard for your father make your hold you tongue.

Don Ferd. I have done, sir. I shall only add a wish that you would reflect what at our age you would have felt, had you been crossed in your affection for the mother of her you are so severe to.

Don Jer. Why, I must confess I had a great affection for your mother’s ducats, but that was all, boy. I married her for her fortune, and she took me in obedience to her father, and a very happy couple we were. We never expected any love from one another, and so we were never disappointed. If we grumbled a little now and then, it was soon over, for we were never fond enough to quarrel; and when the good woman died, why, why,—I had as lieve she had lived, and I wish every widower in Seville could say the same. I shall now go and get the key of this dressing-room—so, good son, if you have any lecture in support of disobedience to give your sister, it must be brief; so make the best of your time d’ye hear?

[Exit.

Don Ferd. I fear, indeed, my friend Antonio has little to hope for; however, Louisa has firmness, and my father’s anger will probably only increase her affection.—In our intercourse with the world, it is natural for us to dislike those who are innocently the cause of our distress; but in the heart’s attachment a woman never likes a man with ardour till she has suffered for his sake.—[Noise.] So! what bustle is here—between my father and the Duenna too I’ll e’en get out of the way.