_Lor._ Then farewell, beloved Ramirez! In obedience to your commands, madam, I shall accept of this Don Fernando; and as a husband, I will love him if I can--

AIR VII.--LORENZA.

_Love! gay illusion!_ _Pleasing delusion,_ _With sweet intrusion,_ _Possesses the mind._

_Love with love meeting,_ _Pa.s.sion is fleeting;_ _Vows in repeating_ _We trust to the wind._

_Faith to faith plighted,_ _Love may be blighted;_ _Hearts often slighted_ _Will cease to be kind._

_Enter VASQUEZ._

_Vas._ Madam--my master and Don Fernando.

_Isab._ Has Don Fernando a servant with him?

_Vas._ No, madam.

_Isab._ Oh, when he comes, take notice of him.

_Enter DON SCIPIO and FERNANDO._

_Don Scipio._ Oh, my darling dame, and my delicate daughter, bless your stars that you see poor old Scipio alive again--Behold my son-in-law and the preserver of my life--Don Fernando, there's your spouse, and this is Donna Isabella, a lady of vast merit, of which my heart is sensible.

_Don Fer._ Madam!

[_Salutes._

_Isab._ What an impudent fellow!

[_Aside._

_Don Scipio._ Dear Fernando, you are as welcome to this castle as flattery to a lady, but there she is--bill and coo--embrace--caress her.

[_FERNANDO salutes LORENZA._

_Lor._ If I had never seen Ramirez, I should think the man tolerable enough!

[_Aside._

_Don Scipio._ Ha! ha! this shall be the happy night--Eh, Dame Isabel, by our agreement, before the lark sings, I take possession of this n.o.ble tenement.

_Don Fer._ Don Scipio, I hoped to have the honour of seeing your son.

_Don Scipio._ My son! Who, Caesar? Oh, lord! He's--He was a--turned out a profligate--Sent him to Italy--got into bad company--don't know what's become of him--My dear friend, if you would not offend me, never mention Don Caesar in my hearing. Egad--Eh, my dainty dame, is not Don Fernando a fine fellow?

_Isab._ Yes, he's well enough for a trumpeter.

_Don Scipio._ Trumpeter! [_With surprise._] what the devil do you mean by that? Oh, because I sound his praise; but, madam, he's a cavalier of n.o.ble birth, t.i.tle, fortune, and valour--

_Isab._ Don Scipio, a word if you please.

[_Takes him aside._

_Lor._ [_To FERNANDO._] Si--Signor, our castle here is rather a gloomy mansion, when compared to the beautiful ca.s.sinos on the banks of the Arno.

_Don Fer._ Arno! true, Don Scipio said in his letter, that his daughter had been bred at Florence.

_Lor._ You have had an unpleasant journey, signor?

_Don Fer._ I have encountered some difficulties by the way, it is true, madam; but am amply repaid by the honour and happiness I now enjoy.

[_Bows._

_Lor._ Sir!--I swear he's a polite cavalier! [_Aside._] Won't you please to sit, sir? I fancy you must be somewhat weary.

[_Sits._

_Don Scipio._ What the devil! Eh, sure--what this fellow only Don Fernando's footman! how! it can't be!

_Isab._ A fact; and presently you'll see Don Fernando himself in livery.

_Don Scipio._ Look at the impudent son of a gipsy--Sat himself down--Zounds! I'll--

_Isab._ Hold! let him play off a few of his airs.

_Don Scipio._ A footman! Ay, this accounts for his behaviour in the forest--Don Fernando would never have accepted my purse--[_Taps his Shoulder._]--Hey, what, you've got there!

_Don Fer._ Will you please to sit, sir?

[_Rises._

_Don Scipio._ Yes, he looks like a trumpeter. [_Aside._] You may sit down, friend.

[_With contempt._

_Don Fer._ A strange old gentleman!

_Enter VASQUEZ._

_Vas._ Sir, your servant Pedrillo is arrived.

[_Exit VASQUEZ._

_Isab._ Servant Pedrillo! Ay, this is Fernando himself.

[_Apart, joyfully to SCIPIO._