Don Scipio. Zounds, man! who's thinking of your son? But this fellow to marry the girl, and disgrace my family!
Don Juan. Disgrace! He has honoured your family, you crack-brained old fool!
Don Scipio. A footman honour my family, you superannuated, deaf old idiot!
Enter Dame Isabella.
Oh, Dame, fine doings! Pedrillo here has married my daughter.
Don Juan. But why this disguise?—what is all this about? tell me, Fernando.
Isab. What, is this really Don Fernando?
Don Scipio. Do you say so, Don Juan?
Don Juan. To be sure.
Don Scipio. Hey! then, Dame, your daughter is left to the valet—no fault of mine, though.