Isaac. Well, you may stay if you will; but I’ll get some one to marry me: for by St. Iago, he shall never meet me again, while I am master of a pair of heels.

[Runs out.—Donna Louisa lets down her veil.

Enter Don Ferdinand.

Don Ferd. So, sir, I have met with you at last.

Don Ant. Well, sir.

Don Ferd. Base, treacherous man! whence can a false, deceitful soul, like yours, borrow confidence, to look so steadily on the man you’ve injured!

Don Ant. Ferdinand, you are too warm: ’tis true you find me on the point of wedding one I loved beyond my life; but no argument of mine prevailed on her to elope.—I scorn deceit, as much as you. By heaven I knew not that she had left her father’s till I saw her!

Don Ferd. What a mean excuse! You have wronged your friend, then, for one, whose wanton forwardness anticipated your treachery—of this, indeed, your Jew pander informed me; but let your conduct be consistent, and since you have dared to do a wrong, follow me, and show you have a spirit to avow it.

Don Louisa. Antonio, I perceive his mistake—leave him to me.

Paul. Friend, you are rude, to interrupt the union of two willing hearts.

Don Ferd. No, meddling priest! the hand he seeks is mine.

Paul. If so, I’ll proceed no further. Lady, did you ever promise this youth your hand?

[To Donna Louisa, who shakes her head.

Don Ferd. Clara, I thank you for your silence—I would not have heard your tongue avow such falsity; be’t your punishment to remember I have not reproached you.

Enter Donna Clara, veiled.

Don. Clara. What mockery is this?

Don Ferd. Antonio, you are protected now, but we shall meet.

[Going, Donna Clara holds one arm, and Donna Louisa the other.

Duet.

Don. Louisa.	Turn thee round, I pray thee,
	Calm awhile thy rage.
Don. Clara.	I must help to stay thee,
	And thy wrath assuage.
Don. Louisa.	Couldst thou not discover
	One so dear to thee?
Don. Clara.	Canst thou be a lover,
	And thus fly from me?

[Both unveil.

Don Ferd. How’s this? My sister! Clara, too—I’m confounded.

Don. Louisa. ’Tis even so, good brother.

Paul. How! what impiety? did the man want to marry his own sister?

Don. Louisa. And ar’n’t you ashamed of yourself not to know your own sister?