Enter Don Scipio.
Don Scipio. Cut my throat!—What, are you at your dreams again?
Spado. [Aside.] Oh, zounds!—Yes, sir, as I was telling you.
Don Scipio. Of a little fellow you have the worst dreams I ever heard.
Spado. Shocking, sir—then I thought—
Don Scipio. Hold, hold, let me hear no more of your curst dreams.
Spado. I've got off, thanks to his credulity.
[Aside.
Don Scipio. What portmanteau's that?
Spado. 'Sdeath, I'm on again!