Don Fer. Am I faith? Ha! ha! ha! I'll humour this—Well then, my dear, you know that I am only Don Fernando's footman?
Catil. Yes, yes, we know that, notwithstanding your fine clothes.
Don Fer. But where's my master?
Catil. Don Fernando! he's parading the gallery yonder, in his sham livery and morning gown.
Don Fer. Oh, this accounts for twelve covers at supper and the embroider'd bed; but who could have set such a jest going? I'll carry it on though—[Aside.] So then after all I am known here?
Catil. Ay, and if all the impostors in the castle were as well known, we shou'd have no wedding to-morrow night.
Don Fer. Something else will out—I'll seem to be in the secret, and perhaps may come at it—[Aside.] Ay, ay, that piece of deceit is much worse than ours.
Catil. That! what, then you know that this Italian lady is not Don Scipio's daughter, but Dame Isabel's, and her true name Lorenza?
Don Fer. Here's a discovery! [Aside.] O yes, I know that.
Catil. You do! Perhaps you know too, that the young lady you saw me speak with just now is the real Donna Victoria?