Then, as to her singing, and heavenly
voice--by this hand, she has a shrill, cracked pipe, that sounds for
all the world like a child's trumpet.
_Don Jer_. Why, you little Hebrew scoundrel, do you mean to insult me?
Out of my house, I say!
_Don Ferd_. [_Coming forward_.] Dear sir, what's the matter?
_Don Jer_. Why, this Israelite here has the impudence to say your
sister's ugly.
_Don Ferd_. He must be either blind or insolent.
_Isaac_. [_Aside_.]So, I find they are all in a story. Egad, I believe
I have gone too far!
_Don Ferd_. Sure, sir, there must be some mistake; it can't be my
sister whom he has seen.
_Don Jer_. 'Sdeath! you are as great a fool as he! What mistake can
there be? Did not I lock up Louisa, and haven't I the key in my own
pocket? and didn't her maid show him into the dressing-room? and yet
you talk of a mistake! No, the Portuguese meant to insult me--and, but
that this roof protects him, old as I am, this sword should do me
justice.
_Isaac_. I[_Aside_.] must get off as well as I can--her fortune is not
the less handsome.
DUET.
_Isaac_.
Believe me, good sir, I ne'er meant to offend;
My mistress I love, and I value my friend
To win her and wed her is still my request,
For better for worse--and I swear I don't jest.
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