Isaac. How! what! it is not with me, then, that you are in love?
Don. Louisa. No, indeed, it is not.
Isaac. Then you are a forward, impertinent simpleton! and I shall certainly acquaint your father.
Don. Louisa. Is this your gallantry?
Isaac. Yet hold—Antonio d'Ercilla, did you say? egad, I may make something of this—Antonio d'Ercilla?
Don. Louisa. Yes; and if ever you wish to prosper in love, you will bring me to him.
Isaac. By St. Iago and I will too!—Carlos, this Antonio is one who rivals me (as I have heard) with Louisa—now, if I could hamper him with this girl, I should have the field to myself; hey, Carlos! A lucky thought, isn't it?
Don Car. Yes, very good—very good!
Isaac. Ah! this little brain is never at a loss—cunning Isaac! cunning rogue! Donna Clara, will you trust yourself awhile to my friend's direction?
Don. Louisa. May I rely on you, good signor?