Hip. You are modest, cousin.—But lest my father should come in presently, which he will do as soon as he knows you are here, I must give you a caution, which 'tis fit you should have before you see him.
Mons. Vell, vell, cousin, vat is dat?
Hip. You must know, then (as commonly the conclusion of all mirth is sad), after I had a good while pleased myself in jesting, and leading the poor gentleman you sent into a fool's paradise, and almost made him believe I would go away with him, my father, coming home this morning, came in upon us, and caught him with me.
Mons. Malepeste!
Hip. And drew his sword upon him, and would have killed him; for you know my father's Spanish fierceness and jealousy.
Mons. But how did he come off then, tête non?
Hip. In short, I was fain to bring him off by saying he was my dancing-master.
Mons. Ha! ha! ha! ver good jeste.
Hip. I was unwilling to have the poor man killed, you know, for our foolish frolic with him: but then, upon my aunt's and father's inquiry, how he came in, and who sent him, I was forced to say you did, desiring I should be able to dance a corant before our wedding.
Mons. A ver good jest—da—still better as better.