Act II.

Scene I.—A Library in Don Jerome’s House.

Enter Don Jerome and Isaac.

Don Jer. Ha! ha! ha! run away from her father! has she given him the slip? Ha! ha! ha! poor Don Guzman!

Isaac. Ay; and I am to conduct her to Antonio; by which means you see I shall hamper him so that he can give me no disturbance with your daughter—this is a trap, isn’t it? a nice stroke of cunning, hey?

Don Jer. Excellent! excellent! yes, yes, carry her to him, hamper him by all means, ha! ha! ha! Poor Don Guzman! an old fool! imposed on by a girl!

Isaac. Nay, they have the cunning of serpents, that’s the truth on’t.

Don Jer. Psha! they are cunning only when they have fools to deal with. Why don’t my girl play me such a trick? Let her cunning over-reach my caution, I say—hey, little Isaac!

Isaac. True, true; or let me see any of the sex make a fool of me!—No, no, egad! little Solomon (as my aunt used to call me) understands tricking a little too well.

Don Jer. Ay, but such a driveller as Don Guzman!

Isaac. And such a dupe as Antonio!

Don Jer. True; never were seen such a couple of credulous simpletons! But come, ’tis time you should see my daughter—you must carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.

Isaac. Sir, you’ll introduce——

Don Jer. No—I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or to speak to her till she renounces her disobedience; win her to that, and she gains a father and a husband at once.

Isaac. Gad, I shall never be able to deal with her alone; nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty—now there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.

Song.

Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast,
But health and good humour to make her his toast;
If straight, I don’t mind whether slender or fat,
And six feet or four—we’ll ne’er quarrel for that.

Whate’er her complexion, I vow I don’t care;
If brown, it is lasting—more pleasing, if fair:
And though in her face I no dimples should see,
Let her smile—and each dell is a dimple to me.

Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen,
And her eyes may be e’en any colour but green;
For in eyes, though so various in lustre and hue,
I swear I’ve no choice—only let her have two.

’Tis true I’d dispense with a throne on her back,
And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black;
A little round chin too’s a beauty, I’ve heard;
But I only desire she mayn’t have a beard.

Don Jer. You will change your note, my friend, when you’ve seen Louisa.

Isaac. Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alliance——

Don Jer. Ay, but her beauty will affect you—she is, though I say it who am her father, a very prodigy. There you will see features with an eye like mine—yes, i’faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling—sometimes of a roguish brightness, that shows her to be my own.

Isaac. Pretty rogue!