Hip. Now, all that I am to desire of you is, to own you sent him, that I may not be caught in a lie.
Mons Yes, yes, a ver good jest: Gerrard a maître de danse! ha! ha! ha!
Hip. Nay, the jest is like to be better yet; for my father himself has obliged him now to come and teach me: so that now he must take the dancing-master upon him, and come three or four times to me before our wedding, lest my father, if he should come no more, should be suspicious I had told him a lie. And, for aught I know, if he should know, or but guess he were not a dancing-master, in his Spanish strictness and punctilios of honour, he might kill me as the shame and stain of his honour and family, which he talks of so much. Now, you know the jealous cruel fathers in Spain serve their poor innocent daughters often so; and he is more than a Spaniard.
Mons. Non, non, fear noting; I warrant you, he shall come as often as you will to de house; and your father shall never know who he is till we are married. But then I'll tell him all for the jest's sake.
Hip. But will you keep my counsel, dear cousin, till we are married?
Mons. Poor dear fool! I warrant thee, ma foi!
Hip. Nay, what a fool am I indeed! for you would not have me killed. You love me too well, sure, to be an instrument of my death.
Enter Don Diego, walking gravely, a Black boy behind him; and Mrs. Caution.
But here comes my father, remember.