No, no; but I will teach her how to cut
  A figure in this world as best becomes
  Her rank and station. I will teach her, too,
  What colours best become her, and how I,
  I, Rodriguez, figured once in youth,
  When I with train of yellow and scarlet silk,
  And stomacher of green, sleeves of sky-blue,
  First did meet my Carlos at the bull-fight. I'll teach her how to dress, to use the fan--
  Thus, also thus, and thus, and how to draw,
  With well-feigned coyness, the mantilla, thus,
  Across her face, leaving one eye exposed,
  And ogle, so, the gallants as they pass. A few good lessons taken from an adept
  Will soon prepare her for society. PEDRO. (_Without._) Rodriguez, Hola! Rodriguez, What ho! _Enter_ PEDRO. ROD. Donna Rodriguez, an it please you, sir. PED. Well then, be it so, Donna Rodriguez,
  I've just met master coming from the castle,
  Apparently in no good humour. He
  Asked me if you'd given me a letter
  Addressed to Donna Inez at the convent,
  And bid me thither haste without delay,
  Threatening me with mine instant dismissal
  Should Mistress Inez fail to arrive to-morrow,
  And thus with hasty step and moody brow
  He passed me by, as if old retainers
  Had not their privileges, eh? Rodriguez--
  Donna Rodriguez, I should say. Pardon me. ROD. Here is the letter; you had best be off. Stay, Pedro. Did master look so savage? PED. Even so. ROD. Something must have angered him. Prithee, good Pedro, hast thou not of late
  Noted a change in poor Don Silvio? PED. Faith, I cannot tell. Since I have known him
  He hath been always the same moody man. ROD. But has he not of late seemed more estranged,
  More dull, more gloomy, just as if there were
  Something of unusual import that
  Were hanging o'er him? PED. In truth I know not. ROD. He sees no company. PED. That's nothing new. ROD. I mean--save that of that old haughty Don,
  Old Don Diego from the neighbouring castle,
  Who ne'er vouchsafes me word, but when he comes
  Passes me by as the veriest slut,
  With not so much as "Good-day, Rodriguez,"
  But asks me sternly if my master's in. His visits have been frequent here of late. What think'st thou is the meaning of all this? PED. In faith, I know not, and do not much care. ROD. Ha! thou carest not? Come now, good Pedro,
  Wilt thou that I confide a secret to thee? PED. A secret that shall increase my wages,
  Take more work off my shoulders? Then declare 't;
  If it be ought else, then keep your secret. I am tired of ever being the slave and drudge
  Of my old master for such paltry pay. I've served here now some twenty years and more. But matters were not always thus. I've seen
  The castle walls look handsomer in my day. In Lady Dorothea's time I never
  Had to wait for my wages, and my suit
  Was always clean and new. Then were there more
  Servants in the castle who took near all
  The work off my hands. Now that they're dismissed
  The burden of the household falls on me,
  And the wages, 'stead of waxing more,
  I have to wait for. I know not how long 'tis
  I have not seen the colour of his gold. Why, the castle's gone to rack and ruin. I am ashamed to meet my former friends,
  The well-fed menials of Don Diego's hall,
  When they with grave and supercilious smile
  Do thus accost me, "Ha! good man, Pedro,
  How fares it with thee and thy poor master? Thy suit, methinks, grows musty, like his castle,
  And, to speak truth, I once have seen thee fatter." Then straight they talk about their master's bounty. "Look how we fare," say they; "an I were thou
  I'd strike for higher wages or else leave." And all these taunts I have to bear--for what? ROD. Well, well, I fare but as yourself; but hark--
  Something's astir within the castle. PED. (_Turning round timidly._)    Where? ROD. Bah! I mean something's about to happen
  In this old hall, an I do not mistake. A _change_. PED. For the better? Out with it, Rodriguez. Be quick, for with this note I must away. [_Going._

  ROD. Just so; the letter. What think'st thou there's in 't? PED. I never play the spy. Money, think you? [_Holding it up to the light._

  ROD. I trow not. I spoke but of it's import. PED. Marry, what should it be but just to bid
  Young Mistress Inez home without delay? ROD. Exactly; and canst divine the motive? PED. Faith! Perhaps the charges of the convent
  Have grown too costly for the miser's purse,
  Or 't may be having stayed there her full time,
  She now returns unto her father's hall. ROD. Not altogether that, for I well know
  Don Silvio would fain have kept her longer. Hark, Pedro! thou know'st that I've always been
  A faithful follower of this ancient house,
  And no time-server as some others are. PED. (_Aside._) Humph! That's meant for me. Time-server, forsooth! ROD. Ill would 't become a faithful old retainer
  Not to take interest in her lord's affairs,
  So with this sense of duty upmost, aye,
  And marking something most unusual
  In these frequent visits of Don Diego,
  Then hearing once his voice in angry tones,
  And that of our poor master, trembling, meek,
  I naturally bent my ear until
  It level stood with the chamber's keyhole. PED. Naturally, Donna Rodriguez. Well? ROD. Ha! Now you take more interest in my tale. Well, then I heard the whining piteous tones
  Of our old master's voice in broken sobs. "Think of her tender age, and your own years. Can this disparity between you both,
  This forced consent on her part, bring to her
  Ought but unhappiness? Prithee, reflect. Think of a father's feelings, and forbear." "Think of your debts, old man, and of your past,"
  Now said a sterner voice; "and if you fail
  To have your daughter all in readiness
  The next time that I call, so the wedding
  May be solemnised within my private chapel
  At whatsoever hour I please, hark ye! I'll sell your ruined castle o'er your head,
  Drive you houseless into the open air
  To beg your bread; by force abduct your daughter,
  And----

  PED. Did he say that? ROD. Ay, he did, indeed. _Enter_ DON SILVIO _musingly behind--he stops and listens_. PED. Why then he'll do 't; that is, if our old lord
  Do not peaceably give up his daughter. ROD. Oh, it's horrible, horrible. Poor child! PED. Horrible for us to be turned adrift. Poor child, indeed! the best thing that could hap,
  I wish the little jade no better luck. The daughter of a threadbare miser. _She_
  Turn up her nose at such a match as this! I can't think what our master's scruples are
  To such a union. Luck seems on his side. ROD. Hush. You forget her age, the poor dear child
  Has scarce arrived at puberty, and then
  Knows nothing of the world, but cometh straight
  From that old convent without time to taste
  The sweets of life, or choose from out the crowd
  Of motley youths who _should_ encompass her
  One of her choice, befitting more her age
  Than this grey, grim, and surly Don Diego. PED. Don Diego is a proper gentleman.