Mrs. Caut. [Aside.] So, he thinks I speak in earnest, then I'll fit him still.—[To Don Diego.] But what do you talk of their whispering! they would not whisper any ill before us, sure.
Don. Will you still be an idiot, a dolt, and see nothing?
Mons. Lord! you'll be wiser than all the world, will you? are we not all against you? pshaw! pshaw! I ne'er saw such a donissimo as you are, I vow and swear.
Don. No, sister, he's no dancing-master; for now I think on't too, he could not play upon the fiddle.
Mrs. Caut. Pish! pish! what dancing-master can play upon a fiddle without strings?
Don. Again, I tell you he broke them on purpose, because he could not play; I have found it out now, sister.
Mrs. Caut. Nay, you see farther than I, brother. [Gerrard offers to lead her out.
Hip. For Heaven's sake stir not yet. [Aside to Gerrard.
Don. Besides, if you remember, they were perpetually putting me out of the room; that was, sister, because they had a mind to be alone, I have found that out too:—now, sister, look you, he is no dancing-master.