[Goes to the door.]
Isaac. When she's at leisure—don't hurry her.—[Exit MAID.]—I wish I had ever practised a love-scene—I doubt I shall make a poor figure—I couldn't be more afraid if I was going before the Inquisition. So, the door opens—yes, she's coming—the very rustling of her silk has a disdainful sound.
Enter DUENNA dressed as DONNA LOUISA.
Now dar'n't I look round, for the soul of me—her beauty will certainly strike me dumb if I do. I wish she'd speak first.
Duen. Sir, I attend your pleasure.
Isaac. [Aside.] So! the ice is broke, and a pretty civil beginning too!—[Aloud.] Hem! madam—miss—I'm all attention.
Duen. Nay, sir, 'tis I who should listen, and you propose.
Isaac. [Aside.] Egad, this isn't so disdainful neither—I believe I may venture to look. No—I dar'n't—one glance of those roguish sparklers would fix me again.
Duen. You seem thoughtful, sir. Let me persuade you to sit down.
Isaac. [Aside.] So, so; she mollifies apace—she's struck with my figure! this attitude has had its effect.