Don. What I have said I have said, and I am un positivo.
Mons. Will you not so mush as allow me one little French oate?
Don. No, you shall look like a Spaniard, but speak and swear like an Englishman, look you.
Mons. Hélas! hélas! den I shall take my leave, mort! tête! ventre! jarni! tête bleu! ventre bleu! ma foi! certes!
Don. [Calls at the door.] Pedro, Sanchez, wait upon this cavaliero into his chamber with those things I ordered you to take out of the trunks.—I would have you a little accustomed to your clothes before your wedding; for, if you comply with me, you shall marry my daughter to-morrow, look you.
Mons. Adieu then, dear pantaloon! dear belte! dear sword! dear peruke! and dear chapeau retroussé, and dear shoe, jarni! adieu! adieu! adieu! Hélas! hélas! hélas! will you have yet no pity?
Don. I am a Spanish positivo, look you.
Mons. And more cruel than de Spanish inquisitiono, to compel a man to a habit against his conscience; hélas! hélas! hélas! [Exit.
Re-enter Prue with Gerrard.