Mons. Ay, ay, let's see her dance it to the violin.
Ger. Another time, another time.
Don. Don't you believe that, friend:—these dancing-masters make no bones of breaking their words. Did not you promise just now, I should see her dance it to the violin? and that I will too, before I stir.
Ger. Let monsieur play then while I dance with her—she can't dance alone.
Mons. I can't play at all; I'm but a learner:—but if you'll play, I'll dance with her.
Ger. I can't play neither.
Don. What! a dancing-master, and not play!
Mrs. Caut. Ay, you see what a dancing-master he is. 'Tis as I told you, I warrant.—A dancing-master, and not play upon the fiddle!
Don. How!