Min. I fancy that he has had occasion to excuse impertinencies often;—his impertinence to me to-day——
Julio. To you, madam?
Min. Making love to me, my dear, all the morning—could hardly get him away, he was so desirous to speak to my father. Nay, sir, I don't care for your impatience.
Julio. [Aside.] Now would I give a thousand pistoles if she were a man!
Oliv. Nay, then, this accidental meeting is fortunate—pray, Don Julio, don't let my presence prevent your saying what you think proper to my friend—shall I leave you together? [Crosses, l.]
Julio. [Apart.] To contradict a lady on such an assertion would be too gross; but, upon my honour, Donna Olivia is the last woman upon earth who could inspire me with a tender idea. Find an excuse to send her away, my angel, I entreat you. I have a thousand things to say, and the moments are too precious to be given to her.
Oliv. I think so too, but one can't be rude, you know. Come, my dear, sit down, [Seating herself, c.] have you brought your work?
Julio. The devil! what can she mean? [Pushing himself between Minette and the sofa.] Donna Olivia, I am sorry to inform you that my physician has just been sent for to your father, Don Cæsar.—The poor gentleman was seized with a vertigo.
Oliv. Vertigoes! Oh, he has them frequently, you know. [To Minette.]
Min. Yes, and they always keep me from his sight.