As he turns, enter Juan.
Juan. That I never can come home but this ghost of an Hidalgo is there to spoil my appetite.
Nuñ. His son, sir!
Men. He’s worse. (Turning back.) Oh, Pedro Crespo, good day, Crespo, good man, good day.
[Exit with Nuño.
Cres. Good day indeed; I’ll make it bad day one of these days with you, if you don’t take care. But how now, Juanito, my boy?
Juan. I was looking for you, sir, but could not find you; where have you been?
Cres.
To the barn, where high and dry,
The jolly sheaves of corn do lie,