SCENE V.—_Same as SCENE III.

_ELVIRA waiting. Enter VIOLANTE from centre door._

_Viol._ Quick! lock the door, Elvira, and away with me on wings. My father must not find me here.

_Elv._ Nay, you need not be frightened, he has gone to my lady Blanca’s room by the way.

_Viol._ No matter, he must not find me; I would learn too what is stirring in the business.

Oh, would I ever drag my purpose through, I must be desperate and cautious too.

[_Exit._

_Elv._ (_locking the door_). Well, that’s all safe, and now myself to hear what news is stirring.

_Vicente_ (_talking as he enters_). In the devil’s name was there ever such a clutter made about a blow? People all up in arms, and running here and there, and up and down, and every where, as if the great Tom of Velilla was a ringing.

_Elv._ Vicente! what’s the matter?

_Vic._ Oh, a very great matter, Elvira. I am very much put out indeed.

_Elv._ What about, and with whom?

_Vic._ With all the world, and my two masters, the young and old one, especially.

_Elv._ But about what?

_Vic._ With the young one for being so ready with his fists, and the old one bawling out upon it to heaven and earth, and then Madam Blanca, she must join in the chorus too; and then your grand Don Mendo there, with whom seizing’s so much in season, he has seized my master, and my master’s father, and Don Guillen, and clapt them all up in prison. Then I’ve a quarrel with the King!

_Elv._ With the King! You must be drunk, Vicente.

_Vic._ I only wish I was.

_Elv._ But what has the King done?

_Vic._ Why let me be beaten at least fifty thousand times, without caring a jot: and now forsooth, because an old fellow gets a little push, his eyes flash axe and gibbet. Then, Elvira, I’m very angry with you.

_Elv._ And why with me?

_Vic._ Because, desperately in love with me as you are, you never serenade me, nor write me a billet-doux, nor ask me for a kiss of my fair hand.

_Elv._ Have I not told you, sir, I leave that all to Beatrice?

_Vic._ And have I not told you, Beatrice may go hang for me?

_Elv._ Oh, Vicente, could I believe you!

_Vic._ Come, give me a kiss on credit of it; in case I lie, I’ll pay you back.

_Elv._ Well, for this once.

_Enter BEATRICE._

_Beat._ The saints be praised, I’ve found you at last!

_Vic._ Beatrice!

_Elv._ Well, what’s the matter?

_Vic._ You’ll soon see.

_Beat._ Oh, pray proceed, proceed, good folks, Never mind me: you’ve business—don’t interrupt it—I’ve seen quite enough, besides being quite indifferent who wears my cast-off shoes.

_Elv._ I beg to say, madam, I wear no shoes except my own, and if I _were_ reduced to other people’s, certainly should not choose those that are made for a wooden leg.

_Beat._ A wooden leg? pray, madam, what has a wooden leg to do with me?

_Elv._ Oh, madam, I must refer you to your own feelings.

_Beat._ I tell you, madam, these hands should tear your hair up by the roots, if it had roots to tear.

_Vic._ Now for her turn.

_Elv._ Why, does she mean to insinuate my hair is as false as that left eye of hers?

_Beat._ Do you mean to insinuate my left eye is false?

_Elv._ Ay; and say it to your teeth.

_Beat._ More, madam, than I ever could say to yours, unless, indeed, you’ve _paid_, madam, for the set you wear.

_Elv._ Have you the face to say my teeth are false?

_Beat._ Have _you_ the face to say my eye’s of glass?

_Elv._ I’ll teach you to say I wear a wig.

_Beat._ Would that my leg _were_ wood just for the occasion.

_Vic._ Ladies, ladies, first consider where we are.

_Beat._ Oh ho! I think I begin to understand.

_Elv._ Oh, and so methinks do I.

_Beat._ It is this wretch— ⎫ ⎪ _Elv._ This knave— ⎪ ⎪ _Beat._ This rascal— ⎬ Spoken together. ⎪ _Elv._ This vagabond— ⎪ ⎪ _Beat._ Has told all these lies. ⎪ ⎪ _Elv._ Has done all this mischief. ⎭

(_They set upon and pinch him, etc._)

_Vic._ Ladies, ladies—Mercy! oh! ladies! just listen!

_Elv._ Listen indeed! If it were not that I hear people coming—

_Vic._ Heaven be praised for it!

_Beat._ We will defer the execution then—And in the mean while shall we two sign a treaty of peace?

_Elv._ My hand to it—Agreed!

_Beat._ Adieu!

_Elv._ Adieu!

[_Exeunt BEATRICE and ELVIRA._

_Vic._ The devil that seized the swine sure has seized you, And all your pinches make me tenfold writhe Because you never gave the king his tithe.

[_Exit._