Don. I told you I was a Spanish positivo, voto!
Mons. Will you not spare my pantaloon! begar, I will give you one little finger to excuse my pantaloon, da—
Don. I have said, look you.
Mons. Auh, cher pantaloons! Speak for my pantaloons, cousin. My poor pantaloons are as dear to me as de scarf to de countree capitane, or de new-made officer: therefore have de compassion for my pantaloons, Don Diego, mon oncle. Hélas! hélas! hélas! [Kneels.
Don. I have said, look you, your dress must be Spanish, and your language English: I am un positivo.
Mons. And must speak base good English too! Ah! la pitié! hélas!
Don. It must be done; and I will see this great change ere it be dark, voto!—Your time is not long; look to't, look you.
Mons. Hélas! hélas! hélas! dat Espagne should conquer la France in England! Hélas! hélas! hélas! [Exit.
Don. You see what pains I take to make him the more agreeable to you, daughter.