Hip. Well, you shall see, father.
Mrs. Caut. No, I warrant you, she will not have him, she'll have her dancing-master rather: I know her meaning, I understand her.
Don. Thou malicious foolish woman! you understand her!—But I do understand her; she says, I will not break my oath, nor he his French customs; so, through our difference, she thinks she shall not have him: but she shall.
Hip. But I shan't.
Mrs. Caut. I know she will not have him, because she hates him.
Don. I tell you, if she does hate him, 'tis a sign she will have him for her husband; for 'tis not one of a thousand that marries the man she loves, look you. Besides, 'tis all one whether she loves him now or not; for as soon as she's married, she'd be sure to hate him. That's the reason we wise Spaniards are jealous, and only expect, nay, will be sure our wives shall fear us, look you.
Hip. Pray, good father and aunt, do not dispute about nothing; for I am sure he will never be my husband to hate.
Mrs. Caut. I am of your opinion, indeed; I understand you. I can see as far as another.
Don. You! you cannot see so much as through your spectacles!—But I understand her: 'tis her mere desire to marriage makes her say she shall not have him; for your poor young things, when they are once in the teens, think they shall never be married.
Hip. Well, father, think you what you will; but I know what I think.