Don Jer. Her skin pure dimity, yet more fair, being spangled here and there with a golden freckle.
Isaac. Charming pretty rogue! pray how is the tone of her voice?
Don Jer. Remarkably pleasing—but if you could prevail on her to sing, you would be enchanted—she is a nightingale—a Virginia nightingale! But come, come; her maid shall conduct you to her antechamber.
Isaac. Well, egad, I'll pluck up resolution, and meet her frowns intrepidly.
Don Jer. Ay! woo her briskly—win her, and give me a proof of your address, my little Solomon.
Isaac. But hold—I expect my friend Carlos to call on me here. If he comes, will you send him to me?
Don Jer. I will. Lauretta!—[Calls.]—Come—she'll show you to the room. What! do you droop? here's a mournful face to make love with! [Exeunt.]
SCENE II.—DONNA LOUISA'S Dressing-Room.
Enter ISAAC and MAID.
Maid. Sir, my mistress will wait on you presently.