Hip. Come, pray be in humour, master.
Ger. I cannot dissemble like you.
Don. What, she can't dissemble already, can she?
Mrs. Caut. Yes, but she can: but 'tis with you she dissembles: for they are not fallen out, as we think. For I'll be sworn I saw her just now give him the languishing eye, as they call it, that is, the whiting's eye, of old called the sheep's eye:—I'll be sworn I saw it with these two eyes; that I did.
Hip. You'll betray us; have a care, good master. [Aside to Gerrard.
Don. Hold your peace, I say, silly woman!—but does she dissemble already?—how do you mean?
Ger. She pretends she can't do what she should do; and that she is not in humour.—The common excuse of women for not doing what they should do.
Don. Come, I'll put her in humour.—Dance, I say.—Come, about with her, master.
Ger. [Aside.] I am in a pretty humour to dance.—[To Hippolita.] I cannot fool any longer, since you have fooled me.
Hip. You would not be so ungenerous as to betray the woman that hated you! I do not do that yet. For Heaven's sake! for this once be more obedient to my desires than your passion. [Aside to Gerrard.