Diego. Well, now have we an honourable cause
To wear the beadle's livery: faith, Flora,
If your tender sex had not been privileg'd
From this harsh discipline, how prettily
Would the beadle's crimson lace show upon
Your white back!
Flo. 'Twon't do so well as on a darker ground:
'Twill suit much better with your tawny hide.
San. I pray, camerade, is it the mode in Seville
To be whipp'd for company?
Diego. O sir, a well-bred soldier will ne'er refuse
Such a civility to an old friend;
This is a new way of being a second,
To show your passive courage.
San. We soldiers do not use to show our backs.
Diego. Not to your enemies; but, sir, the beadle
Will prove your friend; for, your blood being heated
With riding post, the breathing of a vein
Is very requisite.
San. Would t' heaven that I were i' the camp again:
There we are never stripp'd till we are dead.
Enter Don Octavio, and the Chairmen appear at the door.
Don O. Be sure you stir not thence, till I return.
[To the Chairmen.