Don Cæsar. Spado, 'tis your business to relieve the centinel.
Spado. Relieve! what's the matter with him?
Don Cæsar. Come, come, no jesting with duty—'tis your watch.
Spado. Let the wolves watch for me—my duty is to get supper ready.—[Thunder.]—Go up! Od's fire, do you think I'm a Salamander?—D'ye hear?
Sang. No sport, I fear.
Don Cæsar. Then call Calvette, lock down the trap-door, and get us some more wine from the cistern.
Spado. Wine! Ay, captain; and this being a night of peace, we'll have a dish of olives.
Sang. No, peace! we'll up and scour the forest presently. But well thought on; a rich old fellow, one Don Scipio, has lately come to reside in the castle on the skirts of the forest—what say you to plunder there?
Don Cæsar. Not to-night—I know my time—I have my reasons—I shall give command on that business. But where's the stranger we brought in at our last excursion?
Rap. He reposes in yonder recess.