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Jerome. True; sure never were seen such a couple of credulous simpletons; but come, ’tis time you should seemy daughter—you must carry on the siege by yourself, friend Isaac.
Isaac. Sir, you’ll introduce—
Jerome. No-I have sworn a solemn oath not to see or speak to her till she renounces her disobedience; win her to that, and she gains a father and a husband at Once.
Isaac. Gad, I shall never be able to deal with her alone; nothing keeps me in such awe as perfect beauty—now there is something consoling and encouraging in ugliness.
Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast,
Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care,
Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen,
'Tis true I’d dispense with a throne on her back,
Jerome. You will change your note, my friend, when you've seen Louisa.
Isaac. Oh, Don Jerome, the honour of your alliance
Jerome. Ay, but her beauty will affect you—she is, though I say it, who am her father, a very prodigy— there you will see features with an eye like mine— yes i'faith, there is a kind of wicked sparkling—
something of a roguish brightness, that shows her to be my own.
Isaac. Pretty rogue! Jerome. Then, when she smiles, you’ll see a little dimple in one cheek only; a beauty it is certainly, yet you shall not say which is prettiest, the cheek with the dimple, or the cheek without. Isaac. Pretty rogue ! Jerome. Then the roses on those cheeks are shaded with a sort of velvet down, that gives a delicacy to the glow of health. Isaac. Pretty rogue ! Jerome. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here and there with a golden freckle. Isaac. Charming pretty rogue ! pray how is the tone of her voice 2 Jerome. Remarkably pleasing—but if you could prevail on her to sing, you would be enchanted—she is a nightingale—a Virginian nightingale—but come, come; her maid shall conduct you to her antichamber. Isaac. Well, egad, I’ll pluck up resolution, and meet her frowns intrepidly. Jerome. Ay! woo her briskly—win her and give me a proof of your address, my little Solomon. Isaac. But hold—I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here—If he comes will you send him to me? Jerome, I will—Lauretta, come—she’ll show you to the room—what do you droop here’s a mournful face to make love with ! [Ereunt.
Louis A's Dressing Room.
Enter Maip and Isa A.C.
Maid. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently. [Goes to the Door. . Isaac. When she's at leisure—don't hurry her. [Exit MAID.] I wish I had ever practised a love scene —I doubt I shall make a poor figure—I couldn’t be more afraid, if I was going before the Inquisition—so I the door opens—yes, she's coming—the very rustling of her silk has a disdainful sound.
Enter DUENNA, dressed as Louisa.
Now dar’n’t I look round for the soul of me—her beauty will certainly strike me dumb if I do. I wish she’d speak first. Duenna. Sir, I attend your pleasure. Isaac. So I the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning too! hem! madam—miss—I’m all attention. Duenna. Nay, sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose. Isaac. Egad, this isn't so disdainful neither—I believe I may venture to look—no—I dar’n’t—one glance of those roguish sparklers would fix me again. Duenna. You seem thoughtful, sir—let me persuade you to sit down. Isaac. So, so; she mollifies apace—she's struck with my figure this attitude has had its effect. Duenna. Come, sir, here’s a chair. Isaac. Madam, the greatness of your goodness overpowers me—that a lady so lovely should deign to turn her beauteous eyes on me so. [She takes his Hand, he turns and sees her. Duenna. You seem surprised at my condescension. Isaac. Why, yes, madam, I am a little surprised at it.—Zounds ! this can never be Louisa—she's as old as my mother! [Aside. Duenna. But former prepossessions give way to my father’s commands. Isaac, [Aside.] Her father! Yes, ’tis she then— Lord, lord; how blind some parents are Duenna. Signor Isaac. Isaac. Truly, the little damsel was right—she has rather a matronly air indeed! ah! 'tis well my affections are fixed on her fortune, and not her person. Duenna. Signor, won’t you sit 2 [She sits. Isaac. Pardon me, madam, I have scarce recovered my astonishment at—your condescension, madam— she has the devil’s own dimples to be sure [Aside. Duenna. I do not wonder, sir, that you are surprised at my affability—I own, signor, that I was vastly prepossessed against you, and being teased by my father, I did give some encouragement to Antonio; but then, sir, you were described to me as a quite different person. . Isaac. Ay, and so you were to me, upon my soul, madam. Duenna. But when I saw you, I was never more truck in my life. . Isaac. That was just my case too, madam: I was struck all on a heap, for my part. Duenna. Well, sir, I see our misapprehension has been mutual—you expected to find me haughty and averse, and I was taught to believe you a little, black, snub-nosed fellow, without person, manners, or address. Isaac. Egad, I wish she had answer'd her picture . as well. Duenna. But, sir, your air is noble—something so
liberal in your carriage, with so penetrating an eye, and so bewitching a smile ! Isaac. Egad, now I look at her again, I don’t think she is so ugly. Duenna. So little like a Jew, and so much like a gentleman Isaac. Well, certainly there is something pleasing in the tone of her voice. Duenna. You will pardon this breach of decorum in praising you thus, but my joy at being so agreeably deceived has given me such a flow of spirits! Isaac. O, dear lady, may I thank those dear lips for this goodness. [Kisses her.] Why, she has a pretty sort of velvet down, that's the truth on't! [Aside. Duenna. O, sir, you have the most insinuating manner, but indeed you should get rid of that odious beard—one might as well kiss an hedge-hog. Isaac. Yes, ma'am, the razor wouldn’t be amissfor either of us. [Aside.] Could you favour me with a song f Duenna. Willingly, sir, though I am rather hoarse —ahem 1 |Begins to sing: Isaac. Very like a Virginia nightingale—ma'am, I perceive you’re hoarse—I beg you will not distress— Duenna. Oh, not in the least distressed;—now, sire
When a tender maid