Cæsar. You must smile upon me, now and then, roguishly; and slide your hand into mine, when you are sure she sees you, and let me pat your cheek, and——
Mar. Oh, no farther, pray; that will be quite sufficient.
Cæsar. Gad, I begin to take a fancy to your rogue's face, now I'm in no danger; mayn't we—mayn't we salute sometimes, it will seem infinitely more natural.
Mar. Never! such an attempt would make me fly off at once.
Cæsar. Well, you must be lady governess in this business. I'll go home now, and fret madam, about her young mother-in-law—by'e, sweeting!
Mar. By'e, charmer!
Cæsar. Oh, bless its pretty eyes!
[Exit, l.
Mar. Bless its pretty spectacles! ha! ha! ha! enter into a league with a cross old father against a daughter! why, how could he suspect me capable of so much treachery? I could not answer it to my conscience. No, no, I'll acquaint Donna Olivia with the plot: and, as in duty bound, we'll turn our arms against Don Cæsar.
[Exit, r.