_Don Jer_. But he is poor; can you clear him of that, I say? Is he not
a gay, dissipated rake, who has squandered his patrimony?

_Don Ferd_. Sir, he inherited but little; and that his generosity,
more than his profuseness, has stripped him of; but he has never
sullied his honour, which, with his title, has outlived his means.

_Don Jer_. Psha! you talk like a blockhead! nobility, without an
estate, is as ridiculous as gold lace on a frieze coat.

_Don Ferd_. This language, sir, would better become a Dutch or English
trader than a Spaniard.

_Don Jer_. Yes; and those Dutch and English traders, as you call them,
are the wiser people. Why, booby, in England they were formerly as
nice, as to birth and family, as we are: but they have long discovered
what a wonderful purifier gold is; and now, no one there regards
pedigree in anything but a horse. Oh, here comes Isaac! I hope he has
prospered in his suit.

_Don Ferd_. Doubtless, that agreeable figure of his must have helped
his suit surprisingly.

_Don Jer_. How now? [DON FERDINAND _walks aside_.]


_Enter_ ISAAC.

Well, my friend, have you softened her?