Ger. Was it so?
Mons. I knew you would be apt to entertain vain hopes from the summons of a lady: but, faith, the design was but to make a fool of thee, as you find.
Ger. 'Tis very well.
Mons. But indeed I did not think the jest would have lasted so long, and that my cousin would have made a dancing-master of you, ha! ha! ha!
Ger. The fool has reason, I find, and I am the coxcomb while I thought him so. [Aside.
Mons. Come, I see you are uneasy, and the jest of being a dancing-master grows tedious to you:—but have a little patience; the parson is sent for, and when once my cousin and I are married, my uncle may know who you are.
Ger. I am certainly abused. [Aside.
Mons. [Listening.] What do you say?
Ger. Merely fooled! [Aside.