Don Fer. Your daughter Victoria! Then, perhaps, sir, you are Don Scipio, my intended father-in-law?
Don Scipio. Eh! why, zounds! is it possible that you can be my expected son, Fernando?
Don Fer. The same, sir; and was on my journey to your castle, when benighted in the forest here.
Don Scipio. Oh, my dear boy! [Embraces him.] Damned mean of him to take my purse though—[Aside.] Ah, Fernando, you were resolved to touch some of your wife's fortune before-hand.
Don Fer. Sir—I—
Don Scipio. Hush! You have the money, and keep it—ay, and the ring too; I'm glad it's not gone out of the family—Hey, it grows lighter—Come—
Don Fer. My rascal Pedrillo is fallen asleep somewhere.
Don Scipio. No, we are not safe here—Come then, my dear—brave, valiant—Cursed paltry to take my purse though.
[Aside.—Exeunt.
Spado. [Who had been listening, advances.] So, then, our old gentleman is father to Victoria, my young banker Alphonso's mistress, and the other is Fernando, his dreaded rival—this is the first time they ever saw each other too—He has a servant too, and his name Pedrillo—a thought strikes me; if I could, by cross paths, but get to the castle before them, I'll raise a most delicious commotion—In troubled waters I throw my fishing-hook—[Whistle without.]—Excuse me, gentlemen, I'm engaged.