Isaac. Oh, yes, presently.—Such deceit! says he.—Pish! says the lady, tricking is all fair in love. But then, my friend, says he.— Psha! damn your friend, says I. So, poor wretch, he has no chance.— No, no; he may hang himself as soon as he pleases.
Don Ferd. [Aside.] I must go, or I shall betray myself.
Isaac. But stay, Ferdinand, you han't heard the best of the joke.
Don Ferd. Curse on your joke!
Isaac. Good lack! what's the matter now? I thought to have diverted you.
Don Ferd. Be racked! tortured! damned!
Isaac. Why, sure you are not the poor devil of a lover, are you?— I'faith, as sure as can be, he is! This is a better joke than t'other. Ha! ha! ha!
Don Ferd. What! do you laugh? you vile, mischievous varlet!— [Collars him.] But that you're beneath my anger, I'd tear your heart out! [Throws him from him.]
Isaac. O mercy! here's usage for a brother-in-law!
Don Ferd. But, hark ye, rascal! tell me directly where these false friends are gone, or, by my soul——[Draws.]