Don. Who asked you, nimble chaps? So you have put an excuse in his head.
Ger. Indeed, sir, 'tis no excuse: I have no school.
Mrs. Caut. Well; but who sent you? how came you hither?
Ger. There I am puzzled indeed. [Aside.
Mrs. Caut. How came you hither, I say? how—
Ger. Why, how, how should I come hither?
Don. Ay, how should he come hither? Upon his legs.
Mrs. Caut. So, so! now you have put an excuse in his head too, that you have, so you have; but stay—
Don. Nay, with your favour, mistress, I'll ask him now.
Mrs. Caut. Y'facks, but you shan't! I'll ask him, and ask you no favour, that I will.