Spado. O, ho! [Aside.]—What, I have saved your purse, as well as your precious life! Well, of a poor fellow, I am the luckiest dog in all Spain.
Don Scipio. Poor! Good friend, accept this purse, as a small token of my gratitude.
Spado. Nay, dear sir!
Don Scipio. You shall take it.
Spado. Lord, I am so awkward at taking a purse.
[Takes it.
Don Scipio. Hey, if I could find my cane too;—I dropped it somewhere hereabouts, when I drew to defend myself.
[Looking about.
Spado. Zounds! I fancy here comes the real conqueror—no matter—I've got the spoils of the field.