Lor. This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a slave, and know not whose livery I wear.  Who have we yonder?

Enter GOMEZ.

By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old banker, Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona:  As I live ’tis he!—­What, old Mammon here!
          
                                                [To GOMEZ.

Gom. How! young Beelzebub?

Lor. What devil has set his claws in thy haunches, and brought thee hither to Saragossa?  Sure he meant a farther journey with thee.

Gom. I always remove before the enemy:  When the Moors are ready to besiege one town, I shift quarters to the next; I keep as far from the infidels as I can.

Lor. That’s but a hair’s breadth at farthest.

Gom. Well, you have got a famous victory; all true subjects are overjoyed at it:  There are bonfires decreed; an the times had not been hard, my billet should have burnt too.

Lor. I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it; thou art for saving every thing but thy soul.

Gom. Well, well, you’ll not believe me generous, ’till I carry you to the tavern, and crack half a pint with you at my own charges.

Lor. No; I’ll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an extravagance; and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal courtesy.  I have just now seen a most incomparable young lady.

Gom. Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young lady?—­My mind misgives me plaguily. [Aside.

Lor. Here, man, just before this corner-house:  Pray heaven, it prove no bawdy-house.

Gom. [Aside.] Pray heaven, he does not make it one!

Lor. What dost thou mutter to thyself?  Hast thou any thing to say against the honesty of that house?

Gom. Not I, colonel; the walls are very honest stone, and the timber very honest wood, for aught I know; but for the woman, I cannot say, till I know her better:  Describe her person, and, if she live in this quarter, I may give you tidings of her.

Lor. She is of a middle stature, dark-coloured hair, the most bewitching leer with her eyes, the most roguish cast! her cheeks are dimpled when she smiles, and her smiles would tempt an hermit.

Gom. [Aside.] I am dead, I am buried, I am damned.—­Go on, colonel; have you no other marks of her?

Lor. Thou hast all her marks; but she has a husband, a jealous, covetous, old hunks:  Speak! canst thou tell me news of her?

Gom. Yes; this news, colonel, that you have seen your last of her.

Lor. If thou help’st me not to the knowledge of her, thou art a circumcised Jew.

Gom. Circumcise me no more than I circumcise you, colonel Hernando:  Once more, you have seen your last of her.