I stopped their mouths with kisses.
Sing rory, tory, &c.
I wonder, is Don Fernando drest—Oh, here comes the servant, in his proper habiliments!
Enter Don Fernando, in a Livery.
Ay, now, my lad, you look something like.
Don Fer. Yes, your honour, I was quite sick of my grandeur—My passing so well in this disguise gives me a very humble opinion of myself.
[Aside.
Don Scipio. But, Pedrillo, is your master equipped? 'faith, I long to see him in his proper garb.
Don Fer. Why, no, sir, we're a little behind hand with our finery, on account of a portmanteau of clothes that's mislaid somewhere or other.
Don Scipio. Portmanteau! Oh, it's safe enough—Your fellow servant has it.