Don. Come, leave your censorious prating; thou hast been a false, right woman thyself in thy youth, I warrant you.
Mrs. Caut. I right! I right! I scorn your words, I'd have you to know, and 'tis well known. I right! no, 'tis your dainty minx, that Jillflirt, your daughter here, that is right; do you see how her handkerchief is ruffled, and what a heat she's in?
Don. She has been dancing.
Mrs. Caut. Ay, ay, Adam and Eve's dance, or the beginning of the world; d'ye see how she pants?
Don. She has not been used to motion.
Mrs. Caut. Motion! motion! motion d'ye call it? no indeed, I kept her from motion till now: motion with a vengeance!
Don. You put the poor bashful girl to the blush, you see, hold your peace.
Mrs. Caut. 'Tis her guilt, not her modesty, marry!
Don. Come, come, mind her not, child.—Come, master, let me see her dance now the whole dance roundly together; come, sing to her.