Lor. If I had never seen Ramirez, I should think the man tolerable enough!
[Aside.
Don Scipio. Ha! ha! this shall be the happy night—Eh, Dame Isabel, by our agreement, before the lark sings, I take possession of this noble tenement.
Don Fer. Don Scipio, I hoped to have the honour of seeing your son.
Don Scipio. My son! Who, Cæsar? Oh, lord! He's—He was a—turned out a profligate—Sent him to Italy—got into bad company—don't know what's become of him—My dear friend, if you would not offend me, never mention Don Cæsar in my hearing. Egad—Eh, my dainty dame, is not Don Fernando a fine fellow?
Isab. Yes, he's well enough for a trumpeter.
Don Scipio. Trumpeter! [With surprise.] what the devil do you mean by that? Oh, because I sound his praise; but, madam, he's a cavalier of noble birth, title, fortune, and valour—
Isab. Don Scipio, a word if you please.
[Takes him aside.
Lor. [To Fernando.] Si—Signor, our castle here is rather a gloomy mansion, when compared to the beautiful cassinos on the banks of the Arno.