Within those selfsame pantaloons of green?
And when his mistress turns suddenly round and asks him if he is mad, the servant, horror-struck at seeing a lady, instead of a cavalier, with the countenance and voice he at once recognizes, exclaims in horror,—
I do conjure thee by the wounds—of all
Who suffer in the hospital’s worst ward,—
Abrenuntio!—Get thee behind me!
Juana.
Fool! Don’t you see that I am your Don Gil,
Alive in body, and in mind most sound?—
That I am talking here with all these friends,
And none is frightened but your foolish self?