Capt. Where is the rascal?
Isab. A moment, sir! This poor man has flown to our feet for protection; I appeal to you for it; and no man, and least of all an officer, will refuse that to any woman.
Capt. I swear no other arm than that of beauty, and beauty such as yours, could have withheld me. (To Rebolledo.) You may thank the deity that has saved you, rascal.
Isab. And I thank you, sir.
Capt. And yet ungratefully slay me with your eyes in return for sparing him with my sword.
Isab. Oh, sir, do not mar the grace of a good deed by poor compliment, and so make me less mindful of the real thanks I owe you.
Capt. Wit and modesty kiss each other, as well they may, in that lovely face. (Kneels.)
Isab. Heavens! my father!
Enter Crespo and Juan with swords.
Cres. How is this, sir? I am alarmed by cries of murder in my house—am told you have pursued a poor man up to my daughte room; and, when I get here expecting to find you killing a man, I find you courting a woman.