Ger. One, two, three, four, and turn round—[Aside.] by such a piece of innocency!
Mrs. Caut. Dost thou see, fool, how he squeezes her hand? [To Monsieur.
Mons. That won't do, aunt.
Hip. Pray, master, have patience, and let's mind our business.
Don. Why did you anger him then, hussy, look you?
Mrs. Caut. Do you see how she smiles in his face, and squeezes his hand now? [To Monsieur.
Mons. Your servant, aunt.—That won't do, I say.
Hip. Have patience, master.
Ger. [Aside.] I am become her sport!—[Aloud.] One, two, three—Death! hell! and the devil!