Not. This fellow and the page are all we could get hold of. The other got off.
Cres. Ah, this is the rascal who sung. I’ll make him sing on t’other side of his mouth.
Reb. Why, is singing a crime, sir?
Cres. So little that I’ve an instrument shall make you do it as you never did before. Will you confess?
Reb. What am I to confess?
Cres. What passed last night.
Reb. Your daughter can tell you that better than I.
Cres. Villain, you shall die for it!
[Exit.
Chis. Deny all, Rebolledo, and you shall be the hero of a ballad I’ll sing.