Ped. Oh, what a long way it has seemed; as it will when fear fetters one’s legs. Oh, permit me, madam, since fate has sent me back to your feet, to kiss but the little toe, the pink, the pearl, the petty Benjamin of those ten toes. But above all, tell me, for Heaven’s sake, is my master here?
Isab. No, Pedro, you at least are safe. He, alas, is far away.
Ped. So one might think; but yet on the other hand I’d swear he must be here.
Isab. Pedro!
Ped. Oh yes, his sole vocation now is to dodge my steps like some avenging ghost of Capa and Espada.
Enter Juan Baptista.
Bapt. (speaking to himself). If they condemn him
To death, as, on my evidence alone,
They must, he’ll not return to plague me more