Don O. You have more light, Diego, I see, than heat;
But I'll allow your wit and honesty
To come to composition for your want
Of courage.
Diego. I have courage enough for the profession
To which my parents did design me.
Don O. Why, what was that?
Diego. An advocate. I could have acted choler
In my client's sight, and, when his back was turn'd,
Have hugg'd the lawyer of the adverse party;
And, if I mistake not, they sell their breath
Much dearer than you soldiers do your blood.
'Tis true, you get honour, a fine light food
For delicate complexions; but I have
Known some captains of plain stomachs starve upon't.
Don O. The varlet's i' the right. [Aside.] How came't about
You were not of this thriving trade?
Diego. After I had spent seven years at Salamanca,
My father, a rich merchant of this city,
Was utterly undone by that damn'd Englishman,
With whom we fright our children.
Don O. Who, Captain Drako? Was he a pirate?
Diego. He had been so on this side of the line.
Don O. 'Tis strange that war and peace should have degrees
Of latitude: one would have thought they should
Have been the same all o'er the world. But what's this
To my amours? I trifle away my time.
Was ever lover's fate so rude as mine?
Condemn'd to darkness, forc'd to hide my head,
As well as love; and, to spite me the more,
Fortune has contradictions reconcil'd:
I am at once a pris'ner and exil'd.
Enter Don Antonio and Sancho.