_Don Scipio._ Every body's right, for here he stands like a young tailor of Cordova.

[_To PEDRILLO._

_Lor._ Oh, what? then this is Pedrillo?

[_To FERNANDO._

_Don Fer._ At your service, ma'am.

[_Bowing._

_Ped._ That Pedrillo! then, who the devil am I?

_Don Fer._ Here, rogue, this purse is yours--say you are Don Fernando.

[_Apart to PEDRILLO._

_Ped._ Oh, sir--now I understand you.--True, Don Scipio, I am all that he says.

_Don Scipio._ Hey! Now that's right and sensible, and like yourself; but I'll go bustle about our business, for we'll have all our love affairs settled this evening.

[_Exeunt DON SCIPIO and FERNANDO._

_Lor._ So, then, you're to be my husband, ha! ha! ha!

_Ped._ Eh!

_Lor._ Well, if not, I can be as cold as you are indifferent.

AIR XIV.--LORENZA.

_If I my heart surrender,_ _Be ever fond and tender,_ _And sweet connubial joys shall crown_ _Each soft rosy hour:_ _In pure delight each heart shall own_ _Love's triumphant pow'r._ _See brilliant belles admiring,_ _See splendid beaux desiring,_ _All for a smile expiring,_ _Where'er Lorenza moves._ _To b.a.l.l.s and routs resorting,_ _O bliss supreme, transporting!_ _Yet ogling, flirting, courting,_ _'Tis you alone that loves._

_If I my heart surrender, &c._

[Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_A Grand Saloon._

_Enter DON SCIPIO and VASQUEZ._

_Don Scipio._ D'ye hear, Vasquez? run to Father Bened.i.c.k, tell him to wipe his chin, go up to the chapel, put on his spectacles, open his breviary,--find out matrimony, and wait till we come to him.--[_Exit VASQUEZ._] Then, hey, for a brace of weddings!

AIR XV.--DON SCIPIO.

_Then hey for a la.s.s and a bottle to cheer,_ _And a thumping bantling every year!_ _With skin as white as snow,_ _And hair as brown as a berry!_ _With eyes as black as a sloe,_ _And lips as red as a cherry;_ _Sing rory tory,_ _Dancing, prancing,_ _Laugh and lie down is the play,_ _We'll fondle together,_ _In spite of the weather,_ _And kiss the cold winter away._ _Laugh while you live,_ _For as life is a jest,_ _Who laughs the most,_ _Is sure to live best._ _When I was not so old,_ _I frolick'd among the misses;_ _And when they thought me too bold,_ _I stopped their mouths with kisses._ _Sing rory, tory, &c._

I wonder, is Don Fernando drest--Oh, here comes the servant, in his proper habiliments!

_Enter DON FERNANDO, in a Livery._

Ay, now, my lad, you look something like.

_Don Fer._ Yes, your honour, I was quite sick of my grandeur--My pa.s.sing so well in this disguise gives me a very humble opinion of myself.

[_Aside._

_Don Scipio._ But, Pedrillo, is your master equipped? 'faith, I long to see him in his proper garb.

_Don Fer._ Why, no, sir, we're a little behind hand with our finery, on account of a portmanteau of clothes that's mislaid somewhere or other.

_Don Scipio._ Portmanteau! Oh, it's safe enough--Your fellow servant has it.

_Don Fer._ Fellow servant?

_Don Scipio._ Ay, the little spy has taken it in charge--Oh, here comes the very beagle.

_Enter SPADO._

Well, my little dreamer, look; Pedrillo has got into his own clothes again.

_Spado._ [_Surprised and aside._] Don Fernando in a livery! or is this really a servant? Zounds! sure I ha'n't been telling truth all this while!--We must face it though--Ah, my dear old friend!--Glad to see you yourself again.

[_Shakes Hands._

_Don Fer._ My dear boy, I thank you--[_Aside._]--So, here's an old friend I never saw before.

_Don Scipio._ Tell Pedrillo where you have left your master's portmanteau.

While I go lead him in triumph to his bride.

[_Exit._

_Don Fer._ Pray, my good, new, old friend, where has your care deposited this portmanteau?

_Spado._ Gone!

[_Looking after DON SCIPIO._