Mrs. Caut. What! will you let her whisper with him too?
Don. Nay, if you find fault with it, they shall whisper, though I did not like it before:—I'll ha' nobody wiser than myself. But do you think, if 'twere any hurt, she would whisper it to him before us?
Mrs. Caut. If it be no hurt, why does she not speak aloud?
Don. Because she says she will not put the man out of countenance.
Mrs. Caut. Hey-day! put a dancing-master out of countenance!
Don. You say he is no dancing-master.
Mrs. Caut. Yes, for his impudence he may be a dancing-master.
Don. Well, well, let her whisper before me as much as she will to-night, since she is to be married to-morrow;—especially since her husband (that shall be) stands by consenting too.
Mons. Ay, ay, let 'em whisper, as you say, as much as they will before we marry.—[Aside.] She's making more sport with him, I warrant.—But I wonder how people can be fooled so.—Ha! ha! ha!