Mrs. Caut. You found it out! marry come up, did not I tell you always he was no dancing-master?
Don. You tell me! you silly woman, what then? what of that?—You tell me! d'ye think I heeded what you told me? but I tell you now I have found it out.
Mrs. Caut. I say I found it out.
Don. I say 'tis false, gossip, I found him out.
Mrs. Caut. I say I found him out first, say you what you will.
Don. Sister, mum, not such a word again, guarda!—You found him out!
Mrs. Caut. I must submit, or dissemble like other prudent women, or—[Aside.
Don. Come, come, sister, take it from me, he is no dancing-master.
Mrs. Caut. O yes, he is a dancing-master.
Don. What! will you be wiser than I every way?—remember the whispering, I say.