_Serv._ Yes, Sir. _Marpl._ Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in _Spanish_ Habit? _Serv._ There is a _Spanish_ Gentleman within, that is just a going to marry my young Lady, Sir. _Marpl._ Are you sure he is a _Spanish_ Gentleman? _Serv._ I'm sure he speaks no _English_, that I hear of. _Marpl._ Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an _English_ Gentleman, tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a _Spaniard_, that I enquire after. _Serv._ Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform my Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. (_Aside._) Pray, come in, Sir, and see if this be the Person you enquire for. SCENE Changes to the Inside the House. _Enter _Marplot_._ _Marpl._ So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be _Charles_, now will he wonder how I found him out. _Enter Servant and _Jealous_._ Sir _Jeal._ What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you must speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this? _Serv._ Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit, he says. Sir _Jeal._ In _Spanish_ Habit! 'tis some Friend of Seignior _Don Diego_'s, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak with Seignior _Barbinetto_-- _Marpl._ Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!--Sir, I don't understand you. Sir _Jeal._ Don't you understand _Spanish_, Sir? _Marpl._ Not I indeed, Sir. Sir _Jeal._ I thought you had known Seignior _Barbinetto_. _Marpl._ Not I, upon my word, Sir. Sir _Jeal._ What then you'd speak with his Friend, the _English_ Merchant, Mr. _Meanwell_. _Marpl._ Neither, Sir; not I. Sir _Jeal._ Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want? (_In an angry Tone._ _Marpl._ Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I were out, he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen. Sir _Jeal._ Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you in my House? ha? _Serv._ You said you wanted a Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit. _Marpl._ Why ay, but his Name is neither _Barbinetto_ nor _Meanwell_. Sir _Jeal._ What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you agen, I believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen _Mirmidons_--Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, or-- _Marpl._ A terrible old Dog!--Why, Sir, only an honest young Fellow of my Acquaintance--I thought that here might be a Ball, and that he might have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis _Charles_, Sir _Francis Gripe_'s Son, because I know he us'd to come hither sometimes. Sir _Jeal._ Did he so?--Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray Heaven that this be Don _Diego_--If I shou'd be trick'd now--Ha! my Heart misgives me plaguily--within there! stop the Marriage--Run, Sirrah, call all my Servants! I'll be satisfy'd that this is Seignior _Pedro_'s Son e're he has my Daughter. _Marpl._ Ha, Sir _George_, what have I done now ? _Enter Sir _George_ with a drawn Sword between the Scenes._