Don. Come, black, teach him now to make a Spanish leg.[63]
Mons. Ha! ha! ha! your Spanish leg is an English courtesy, I vow and swear, hah! hah! hah!
Don. Well, the hood does not make the monk; the ass was an ass still, though he had the lion's skin on. This will be a light French fool, in spite of the grave Spanish habit, look you.—But, black, do what you can; make the most of him; walk him about.
Prue. Here are the people, sir, you sent to speak about provisions for the wedding; and here are clothes brought home too, mistress. [Goes to the door and returns.
Don. Well, I come.—Black, do what you can with him; walk him about.
Mons. Indeed, uncle, if I were as you, I would not have the grave Spanish habit so travestied: I shall disgrace it, and my little black master too, I vow and swear.
Don. Learn, learn of him; improve yourself by him—and do you walk him, walk him about soundly.—Come, sister, and daughter, I must have your judgments, though I shall not need 'em, look you.—Walk him, see you walk him. [Exeunt Don Diego, Hippolita, and Mrs. Caution.
Mons. Jarni! he does not only make a Spaniard of me, but a Spanish jennet, in giving me to his lackey to walk.—But come along, little master. [The Black instructs Monsieur on one side of the stage, Prue standing on the other.
Prue. O the unfortunate condition of us poor chambermaids! who have all the carking and caring, the watching and sitting up, the trouble and danger of our mistresses' intrigues, whilst they go away with all the pleasure! And if they can get their man in a corner, 'tis well enough; they ne'er think of the poor watchful chambermaid, who sits knocking her heels in the cold, for want of better exercise, in some melancholy lobby or entry, when she could employ her time every whit as well as her mistress, for all her quality, if she were but put to't. [Aside.