Don Scipio. Suspect? I know who you are, [Advancing to him.] so get into your livery again as fast as you can.
Don Fer. Ha, my dear friend, Don Scipio, I was—
Don Scipio. Friend! you impudent rascal! I'll break your head, if you make so free with me. None of your swaggering, sirrah—How the fellow acts! it wasn't for nothing he was among the strolling players; but, hark ye, my lad, be quiet, for you're blown here, without the help of your trumpet.
Don Fer. Lord, your honour, how came you to know that I am Pedrillo?
Don Scipio. Why, I was told of it by your fellow—hold, I must not betray my little dreamer though—[Aside.]—No matter who told me; I—but here comes your master.
Don Fer. Pedrillo! The fellow will spoil all; I wish I had given him his lesson before I began with Don Scipio.
[Aside.
Don Scipio. I hope he'll now have done with his gambols.
Don Fer. Sir, my master is such an obstinate gentleman, as sure as you stand here, he'll still deny himself to be Don Fernando.
Don Scipio. Will he? then I'll write his father an account of his vagaries.