Don. What! is she humoursome still?—but methinks you look yourself as if you were in an ill-humour:—but about with her.
Ger. I am in no good dancing humour, indeed.
Re-enter Monsieur.
Mons. Well, how goes the dancing forward?—What, my aunt here to disturb 'em again?
Don. Come! come! [Gerrard leads her about.
Mrs. Caut. I say, stand off;—thou shall not come near. Avoid, Satan! as they say.
Don. Nay, then we shall have it:—nephew, hold her a little, that she may not disturb 'em.—Come, now away with her.
Ger. One, two, and a coupee.—[Aside.] Fooled and abused—
Mrs. Caut. Wilt thou lay violent hands upon thy own natural aunt, wretch? [To Monsieur.
Don. Come, about with her.