Ferdinand (stammering). Next, next—my lord!
You know you told me that the lady loved you,
Had loved you with incautious tenderness.
That if the young man, her betrothéd husband, [50]
Return'd, yourself, and she, and an unborn babe,
Must perish. Now, my lord! to be a man!

Osorio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person). This fellow is a man! he kill'd for hire
One whom he knew not—yet has tender scruples. [Then turning to Ferdinand.
Thy hums and ha's, thy whine and stammering. [55]
Pish—fool! thou blunder'st through the devil's book,
Spelling thy villany!

Ferdinand. My lord—my lord!
I can bear much, yes, very much from you.
But there's a point where sufferance is meanness!
I am no villain, never kill'd for hire. [60]
My gratitude——

Osorio. O! aye, your gratitude!
'Twas a well-sounding word—what have you done with it?

Ferdinand. Who proffers his past favours for my virtue
Tries to o'erreach me, is a very sharper,
[[538]] And should not speak of gratitude, my lord! [65]
I knew not 'twas your brother!

Osorio (evidently alarmed). And who told you?

Ferdinand. He himself told me.

Osorio. Ha! you talk'd with him?
And those, the two Morescoes, that went with you?

Ferdinand. Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.

Osorio (in a low voice). My brother!