Mrs. Caut. Stand off, I say. He shall not touch her, he has touched her too much already.
Don. If patience were not a Spanish virtue, I would lay it aside now: I say, let 'em dance.
Mrs. Caut. I say, they shall not dance.
Hip. Pray, father, since you see my aunt's obstinacy, let us alone till anon, when you may keep her out.
Don. Well then, friend, do not fail to come.
Hip. Nay, if he fail me at last—
Don. Be sure you come, for she's to be married to-morrow:—do you know it?
Ger. Yes, yes, sir.—Sweet scholar, your humble servant, till night; and think in the mean time of the instructions I have given you, that you may be the readier when I come.
Don. Ay, girl, be sure you do,—and do you be sure to come.