[Exit.

Re-enter Don Jerome with a letter, pulling in Duenna.

Don Jer. I’m astonished! I’m thunderstruck! here’s treachery with a vengeance! You, Antonio’s creature, and chief manager of this plot for my daughter’s eloping!—you, that I placed here as a scarcecrow?

Duen. What?

Don Jer. A scarecrow—to prove a decoy-duck! What have you to say for yourself?

Duen. Well, sir, since you have forced that letter from me, and discovered my real sentiments, I scorn to renounce them.—I am Antonio’s friend, and it was my intention that your daughter should have served you as all such old tyrannical sots should be served—I delight in the tender passions and would befriend all under their influence.

Don Jer. The tender passions! yes, they would become those impenetrable features! Why, thou deceitful hag! I placed thee as a guard to the rich blossoms of my daughter’s beauty. I thought that dragon’s front of thine would cry aloof to the sons of gallantry: steel traps and spring guns seemed writ in every wrinkle of it.—But you shall quit my house this instant. The tender passions, indeed! go, thou wanton sibyl, thou amorous woman of Endor, go!

Duen. You base, scurrilous, old—but I won’t demean myself by naming what you are.—Yes, savage, I’ll leave your den; but I suppose you don’t mean to detain my apparel—I may have my things, I presume?

Don Jer. I took you, mistress, with your wardrobe on—what have you pilfered, eh?

Duen. Sir, I must take leave of my mistress; she has valuables of mine: besides, my cardinal and veil are in her room.

Don Jer. Your veil, forsooth! what, do you dread being gazed at? or are you afraid of your complexion? Well, go take your leave, and get your veil and cardinal! so! you quit the house within these five minutes.—In—in—quick!—[Exit Duenna.] Here was a precious plot of mischief!—these are the comforts daughters bring us!

Air.

If a daughter you have, she’s the plague of your life
No peace shall you know, though you’ve buried your wife!
At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught her—
Oh what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
                    Sighing and whining,
                    Dying and pining,
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!

When scarce in their teens they have wit to perplex us,
With letters and lovers for ever they vex us;
While each still rejects the fair suitor you’ve brought her;
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!
                    Wrangling and jangling,
                    Flouting and pouting,
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter!

Re-enter Donna Louisa, dressed as Duenna, with cardinal and veil, seeming to cry.

This way, mistress, this way.—What, I warrant a tender parting; so! tears of turpentine down those deal cheeks.—Ay, you may well hide your head—yes, whine till your heart breaks! but I’ll not hear one word of excuse—so you are right to be dumb. This way, this way.

[Exeunt.

Re-enter Duenna.

Duen. So, speed you well, sagacious Don Jerome! Oh rare effects of passion and obstinacy! Now shall I try whether I can’t play the fine lady as well as my mistress, and if I succeed, I may be a fine lady for the rest of my life—I’ll lose no time to equip myself.