_Don Jer_. Zounds and fury! what's here now? who sent for you, sir, and who the devil are you?

_Don Ant_. This lady's husband, sir.

_Isaac_. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn; for I left them with a priest, and was to have given her away.

_Don Jer_. You were?

_Isaac_. Ay; that's my honest friend, Antonio; and that's the little girl I told you I had hampered him with.

_Don Jer_. Why, you are either drunk or mad--this is my daughter.

_Isaac_. No, no; 'tis you are both drunk and mad, I think--here's your daughter.

_Don Jer_. Hark ye, old iniquity! will you explain all this, or not?

_Duen_. Come then, Don Jerome, I will--though our habits might inform you all. Look on your daughter, there, and on me.

_Isaac_. What's this I hear?

_Duen_. The truth is, that in your pa.s.sion this morning you made a small mistake; for you turned your daughter out of doors, and locked up your humble servant.

_Isaac_. O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to turn his daughter out of doors, instead of an old Duenna!

_Don Jer_. And, O Lud! O Lud! here's a pretty fellow, to marry an old Duenna instead of my daughter! But how came the rest about?

_Duen_. I have only to add, that I remained in your daughter's place, and had the good fortune to engage the affections of my sweet husband here.

_Isaac_. Her husband! why, you old witch, do you think I'll be your husband now? This is a trick, a cheat! and you ought all to be ashamed of yourselves.

_Don Ant_. Hark ye, Isaac, do you dare to complain of tricking? Don Jerome, I give you my word, this cunning Portuguese has brought all this upon himself, by endeavouring to overreach you, by getting your daughter's fortune, without making any settlement in return.

_Don Jer_. Overreach me!

_Don. Louisa_. 'Tis so, indeed, sir, and we can prove it to you.

_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, it must be so, or he never could put up with such a face as Margaret's--so, little Solomon, I wish you joy of your wife, with all my soul.

_Don. Louisa_. Isaac, tricking is all fair in love--let you alone for the plot!

_Don Ant_. A cunning dog, ar'n't you? A sly little villain, eh?

_Don. Louisa_. Roguish, perhaps; but keen, devilish keen!

_Don Jer_. Yes, yes; his aunt always called him little Solomon.

_Isaac_. Why, the plagues of Egypt upon you all! but do you think I'll submit to such an imposition?

_Don Ant_. Isaac, one serious word--you'd better be content as you are; for, believe me, you will find that, in the opinion of the world, there is not a fairer subject for contempt and ridicule than a knave become the dupe of his own art.

_Isaac_. I don't care--I'll not endure this. Don Jerome, 'tis you have done this--you would be so cursed positive about the beauty of her you locked up, and all the time I told you she was as old as my mother, and as ugly as the devil.

_Duen_. Why, you little insignificant reptile!----

_Don Jer_. That's right!--attack him, Margaret.

_Duen_. Dare such a thing as you pretend to talk of beauty?--A walking rouleau?--a body that seems to owe all its consequence to the dropsy!

a pair of eyes like two dead beetles in a wad of brown dough! a beard like an artichoke, with dry, shrivelled jaws that would disgrace the mummy of a monkey?

_Don Jer_. Well done, Margaret!

_Duen_. But you shall know that I have a brother who wears a sword-- and, if you don't do me justice--

_Isaac_. Fire seize your brother, and you too! I'll fly to Jerusalem to avoid you!

_Duen_. Fly where you will, I'll follow you.

_Don Jer_. Throw your snowy arms about him, Margaret.--[_Exeunt_ ISAAC _and_ DUENNA.] But, Louisa, are you really married to this modest gentleman?

_Don. Louisa_. Sir, in obedience to your commands, I gave him my hand within this hour.

_Don Jer_. My commands!

_Don Ant_. Yes, sir; here is your consent, under your own hand.

_Don Jer_. How! would you rob me of my child by a trick, a false pretence? and do you think to get her fortune by the same means? Why, 'slife! you are as great a rogue as Isaac!

_Don Ant_. No, Don Jerome; though I have profited by this paper in gaining your daughter's hand, I scorn to obtain her fortune by deceit.

There, sir--[_Gives a letter_.] Now give her your blessing for a dower, and all the little I possess shall be settled on her in return.

Had you wedded her to a prince, he could do no more.

_Don Jer_. Why, Gad, take me, but you are a very extraordinary fellow!

But have you the impudence to suppose no one can do a generous action but yourself? Here, Louisa, tell this proud fool of yours that he's the only man I know that would renounce your fortune; and, by my soul!

he's the only man in Spain that's worthy of it. There, bless you both: I'm an obstinate old fellow when I'm in the wrong; but you shall now find me as steady in the right.

_Enter_ DON FERDINAND _and_ DONNA CLARA.

Another wonder still! Why, sirrah! Ferdinand, you have not stole a nun, have you?

_Don Fred_. She is a nun in nothing but her habit, sir--look nearer, and you will perceive 'tis Clara d'Almanza, Don Guzman's daughter; and, with pardon for stealing a wedding, she is also my wife.

_Don Jer_. Gadsbud, and a great fortune! Ferdinand, you are a prudent young rogue, and I forgive you: and, if.e.c.ks, you are a pretty little damsel. Give your father-in-law a kiss, you smiling rogue!

_Don. Clara_. There, old gentleman; and now mind you behave well to us.

_Don Jer_. If.e.c.ks, those lips ha'n't been chilled by kissing beads!

Egad, I believe I shall grow the best-humoured fellow in Spain. Lewis!

Sancho! Carlos! d'ye hear? are all my doors thrown open? Our children's weddings are the only holidays our age can boast; and then we drain, with pleasure, the little stock of spirits time has left us.--[_Music within_.] But, see, here come our friends and neighbours!