Mrs. Caut. But has he not given her a lesson often before you?
Don. Ay, but sister, he did not go about his business like a dancing-master; but go, go down to the door, somebody rings. [Exit Mrs. Caution.
Mons. I vow and swear, uncle, he is a dancing-master; pray be appeased.—Lord! d'ye think I'd tell you a lie?
Don. If it prove to be a lie, and you do not confess it, though you are my next heir after my daughter, I will disown thee as much as I do her, for thy folly and treachery to thyself, as well as me.—You may have her, but never my estate, look you.
Mons. How! I must look to my hits then. [Aside.
Don. Look to't.
Mons. [Aside.] Then I had best confess all, before he discover all, which he will soon do.—
Enter Parson.
O here's the parson too! he won't be in choler, nor brandish toledo before the parson sure?—[To Don Diego.] Well, uncle, I must confess, rather than lose your favour, he is no dancing-master.
Don. No!