Mos. Pray have a little patience. I’m not a musket.
Chis. I’m glad to see you come on dancing, padre! Pray, what’s the news?
Mos. You cannot have fresh horses; because there are none.
Chis. Cachiporra! Throw that bone to another dog. Do I look like your aunt?
Mos. No; she has a beard.
Chis. Go to! go to!
Mos. Are you from Madrid?
Chis. Yes; and going to Estramadura. Get us horses.
Mos. What’s the news at court?
Chis. Why, the latest news is that I am going to set up a coach, and, as you see, I have already bought the whip. (Strikes him round the legs.)