Don P. What else?
[Fulvio knocks at Don Julio's door, and nobody answers.
Don P. Knock harder.
[He knocks again, and one asks as from within, Who's there?
Don P. A stranger, who must needs speak with Don Julio,
Although unknown to him: my business presses.
From within. Whoe'er you be, and whatsoe'er your business,
You must have patience till to-morrow, sir.
Don Julio went sick to bed, and I dare not
Wake him.
Don P. Fortune takes pleasure, sure, in disappointing,
When men are press'd with most impatience;
But, since there is no remedy, guide, Fulvio,
Unto the lodging y' have provided for me;
I hope 'tis near at hand.
Fulv. Not above three doors from Don Julio's,
There, where it makes the corner of the street. [Pointing.
Fab. Here I must follow, till I've harbour'd them.