Ha! ha! ha!
_Don Ferd_. What! do you laugh? you vile, mischievous varlet!--
[_Collars him_.] But that you're beneath my anger, I'd tear your heart
out! [_Throws him from him_.]
_Isaac_. O mercy! here's usage for a brother-in-law!
_Don Ferd_. But, hark ye, rascal! tell me directly where these false
friends are gone, or, by my soul----[_Draws_.]
_Isaac_. For Heaven's sake, now, my dear brother-in-law, don't be in a
rage! I'll recollect as well as I can.
_Don Ferd_. Be quick, then!
_Isaac_. I will, I will!--but people's memories differ; some have a
treacherous memory: now mine is a cowardly memory--it takes to its
heels at sight of a drawn sword--it does i'faith; and I could as soon
fight as recollect.
_Don Ferd_. Zounds! tell me the truth, and I won't hurt you.
_Isaac_. No, no, I know you won't, my dear brother-in-law; but that
ill-looking thing there----
_Don Ferd_. What, then, you won't tell me?
_Isaac_. Yes, yes, I will; I'll tell you all, upon my soul!--but why
need you listen, sword in hand?
_Don Ferd_. Why, there.--[_Puts up_.] Now.
_Isaac_. Why, then, I believe they are gone to--that is, my friend
Carlos told me he had left Donna Clara--dear Ferdinand, keep your
hands off--at the convent of St.
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