Vic. I with Beatrice! Lord! lord! if you only knew half what I know, Elvira, you’d not be jealous of her.
Elv. Why, what do you know of her?
Vic. A woman who, could she breed at all, would breed foxes and stoats—a tolerable outside, but only, only go near her—Foh! such a breath! beside other peculiarities I don’t mention out of respect to the sex. But this I tell you, one of those sparkling eyes of hers is glass, and her right leg a wooden one.
Elv. Nonsense!
Vic. Only you look, and, see if she don’t limp on one side, and squint on the other.
Don Guillen (entering at one side). I can wait no longer.
Don Lope (entering at the other). It is no use; she is shut up with my mother. Now for Don Guillen.
Elv. They are back.
Vic. We’ll settle our little matter by and by.
Elv. Glass eyes and wooden legs!