Laur. But, signor Alvaro, if the periculo or mal-shance were such, that she should love and live with another, then the dolce visage must be left in spite of the lover's teeth, whilst he may whine at his own ill-fortune.
Van. Dat's war, maitresse, for it is untrue, saying, dey wint he taught dey verleift lie scrat sin gat.
Math. And I think, too, you are like to scratch there, but never to claw any of my sister's love away.
Van. Dan sal your sistre do gainst her vader's will, for your vader segt dat ic sal heb bar vor mine wife.
Laur. I think not so, sir, for I never heard him say so; but I'll go in and ask him if his meaning be so.
Mar. Hark, sister; signor Alvaro saith, that I am the fairest of all us three.
Laur. Believe him not, for he'll tell any lie,
If so he thinks thou may's be pleas'd thereby.
Come, go with me, and ne'er stand prating here,
I have a jest to tell thee in thine ear
Shall make you laugh. Come, let your signor stand:
I know there's not a wench in all this town
Scoffs at him more, or loves him less than thou.
Master Vandal, as much I say for you;
If needs you marry with an English lass,
Woo her in English, or she'll call you ass.
Math. Tut, that's a French cog; sure, I think,
There's ne'er a wench in France not half so fond
To woo and sue so for your monsieurship.
Del. Par ma foi, madame, she does tink dare is no wench so dure as you: for de fille was créé dolce, tendre, and amorous for me to love her. Now me tink dat I, being such a fine man, you should lova me.