did. I'm sure I cried out, and waked all in tears, with these words in

my mouth--"You have undone me! you have undone me! your worship has undone me!"

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha!--but you waked, and found it was but a dream.

_Prue._ Indeed it was so lively, I know not whether 'twas a dream, or no.--But if you were not there, I'll undertake you may come when you will, and do anything to me you will, I sleep so fast.

_Mons._ No, no; I don't believe that.

_Prue._ Indeed you may, your worship--

_Mons._ It cannot be.

_Prue._ Insensible beast! he will not understand me yet; and one would think I speak plain enough. [_Aside._

_Mons._ Well, but, Prue, what art thou thinking of?

_Prue._ Of the dream, whether it were a dream or no.

_Mons._ 'Twas a dream, I warrant thee.

_Prue._ Was it? I am hugeous glad it was a dream.

_Mons._ Ay, ay, it was a dream: and I am hugeous glad it was a dream too.

_Prue._ But now I have told your worship my door has neither lock nor latch to it, if you should be so naughty as to come one night, and prove the dream true--I am so afraid on't.

_Mons._ Ne'er fear it:--dreams go by the contraries.

_Prue._ Then, by that I should come into your worship's chamber, and come to bed to your worship.--Now am I as red as my petticoat again, I warrant.

_Mons._ No, thou art no redder than a brick unburnt, Prue.

_Prue._ But if I should do such a trick in my sleep, your worship would not censure a poor harmless maid, I hope?--for I am apt to walk in my sleep.

_Mons._ Well, then, Prue, because thou shalt not shame thyself, poor wench, I'll be sure to lock my door every night fast.

_Prue._ [_Aside._] So! so! this way I find will not do:--I must come roundly and downright to the business, like other women, or--

_Enter_ GERRARD.

_Mons._ O, the dancing-master!

_Prue._ Dear sir, I have something to say to you in your ear, which I am ashamed to speak aloud.

_Mons._ Another time, another time, Prue. But now go call your mistress to her dancing-master. Go, go.

_Prue._ Nay, pray hear me, sir, first.

_Mons._ Another time, another time, Prue; prithee begone.

_Prue._ Nay, I beseech your worship hear me.

_Mons._ No; prithee begone.

_Prue._ [_Aside._] Nay, I am e'en well enough served for not speaking my mind when I had an opportunity.--Well, I must be playing the modest woman, forsooth! a woman's hypocrisy in this case does only deceive herself. [_Exit._

_Mons._ O, the brave dancing master! the fine dancing-master! Your servant, your servant.

_Ger._ Your servant sir: I protest I did not know you at first--[_Aside._] I am afraid this fool should spoil all, notwithstanding Hippolita's care and management; yet I ought to trust her:--but a secret is more safe with a treacherous knave than a talkative fool.

_Mons._ Come, sir, you must know a little brother dancing-master of yours--walking master I should have said; for he teaches me to walk and make legs, by-the-bye. Pray, know him, sir; salute him, sir.--You Christian dancing-masters are so proud.

_Ger._ But, monsieur, what strange metamorphosis is this? You look like a Spaniard, and talk like an Englishman again, which I thought had been impossible.

_Mons._ Nothing impossible to love: I must do't, or lose my mistress, your pretty scholar; for 'tis I am to have her. You may remember I told you she was to be married to a great man, a man of honour and quality.

_Ger._ But does she enjoin you to this severe penance?--such I am sure it is to you.

_Mons._ No, no: 'tis by the compulsion of the starched fop her father, who is so arrant a Spaniard, he would kill you and his daughter, if he knew who you were: therefore have a special care to dissemble well. [_Draws him aside._

_Ger._ I warrant you.

_Mons._ Dear Gerrard--Go, little master, and call my cousin: tell her her dancing-master is here. [_Exit the_ Black]--I say, dear Gerrard, faith, I'm obliged to you for the trouble you have had. When I sent you, I intended a jest indeed; but did not think it would have been so dangerous a jest: therefore pray forgive me.

_Ger._ I do, do heartily forgive you.

_Mons._ But can you forgive me for sending you at first, like a fool as I was? 'Twas ill done of me: can you forgive me?

_Ger._ Yes, yes, I do forgive you.

_Mons._ Well, thou art a generous man, I vow and swear, to come and take upon you all this trouble, danger, and shame, to be thought a paltry dancing-master; and all this to preserve a lady's honour and life, who intended to abuse you. But I take the obligation upon me.

_Ger._ Pish! pish! you are not obliged to me at all.

_Mons._ Faith, but I am strangely obliged to you.

_Ger._ Faith, but you are not.

_Mons._ I vow and swear but I am.

_Ger._ I swear you are not.

_Mons._ Nay, thou art so generous a dancing-master, ha! ha! ha!

_Re-enter_ Don DIEGO, HIPPOLITA, Mrs. CAUTION, _and_ PRUE.

_Don._ You shall not come in, sister.

_Mrs. Caut._ I will come in.

_Don._ You will not be civil.

_Mrs. Caut._ I'm sure they will not be civil, if I do not come in:--I must, I will.

_Don._ Well, honest friend, you are very punctual, which is a rare virtue in a dancing-master; I take notice of it, and will remember it; I will, look you.

_Mons._ So, silly, damned, politic Spanish uncle!--ha! ha! ha! [_Aside._

_Ger._ My fine scholar, sir, there, shall never have reason, as I have told you, sir, to say I am not a punctual man; for I am more her servant than to any scholar I ever had.

_Mons._ Well said, i'faith!--[_Aside._] Thou dost make a pretty fool of him, I vow and swear. But I wonder people can be made such fools of:--ha! ha! ha!

_Hip._ Well, master, I thank you; and I hope I shall be a grateful, kind scholar to you.

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! cunning little jilt, what a fool she makes of him too! I wonder people can be made such fools of, I vow and swear:--ha! ha! ha! [_Aside._

_Hip._ Indeed, it shall go hard but I'll be a grateful, kind scholar to you.

_Mrs. Caut._ As kind as ever your mother was to your father, I warrant.

_Don._ How! again with your senseless suspicions.

_Mons._ Pish! pish! aunt--[_Aside._] Ha! ha! ha! she's a fool another way: she thinks she loves him, ha! ha! ha! Lord! that people should be such fools!

_Mrs. Caut._ Come, come, I cannot but speak: I tell you, beware in time; for he is no dancing-master, but some debauched person who will mump you of your daughter.

_Don._ Will you be wiser than I still? Mump me of my daughter! I would I could see any one mump me of my daughter.

_Mrs. Caut._ And mump you of your mistress too, young Spaniard.

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! will you be wiser than I too, _voto_? Mump me of my mistress! I would I could see any one mump me of my mistress.--[_Aside to_ GERRARD _and_ HIPPOLITA.] I am afraid this damned old aunt should discover us, I vow and swear: be careful therefore and resolute.

_Mrs. Caut._ He! he does not go about his business like a dancing-master. He'll ne'er teach her to dance; but he'll teach her no goodness soon enough, I warrant.--He a dancing-master!

_Mons._ Ay, the devil eat me if he be not the best dancing-master in England now!--[_Aside to_ GERRARD _and_ HIPPOLITA.] Was not that well said, cousin? was it not? for he's a gentleman dancing-master, you know.

_Don._ You know him, cousin, very well? cousin, you sent him to my daughter?

_Mons._ Yes, yes, uncle:--know him!--[_Aside._] We'll ne'er be discovered, I warrant, ha! ha! ha!

_Mrs. Caut._ But will you be made a fool of too?

_Mons._ Ay, ay, aunt, ne'er trouble yourself.

_Don._ Come, friend, about your business; about with my daughter.

_Hip._ Nay, pray, father, be pleased to go out a little, and let us practise awhile, and then you shall see me dance the whole dance to the violin.

_Don._ Tittle tattle! more fooling still!--Did not you say, when your master was here last, I should see you dance to the violin when he came again?

_Hip._ So I did, father: but let me practise a little first before, that I may be perfect. Besides, my aunt is here, and she will put me out; you know I cannot dance before her.

_Don._ Fiddle faddle!

_Mons._ [_Aside._] They're afraid to be discovered by Gerrard's bungling, I see.--[_Aloud._] Come, come, uncle turn out! let 'em practise.

_Don._ I won't, _voto á St. Jago!_ what a fooling's here.

_Mons._ Come, come, let 'em practise: turn out, turn out, uncle.

_Don._ Why can't she practise it before me?

_Mons._ Come, dancers and singers are sometimes humoursome; besides, 'twill be more grateful to you to see it danced all at once to the violin. Come, turn out, turn out, I say.

_Don._ What a fooling's here still among you, _voto!_

_Mons._ So, there he is with you, _voto!_--Turn out, turn out; I vow and swear you shall turn out. [_Takes him by the shoulder._

_Don._ Well, shall I see her dance it to the violin at last?

_Ger._ Yes, yes, sir; what do you think I teach her for?

_Mons._ Go, go, turn out.--[_Exit_ Don DIEGO.] And you too, aunt.

_Mrs. Caut._ Seriously, nephew, I shall not budge; royally, I shall not.

_Mons._ Royally, you must, aunt: come.

_Mrs. Caut._ Pray hear me, nephew.

_Mons._ I will not hear you.

_Mrs. Caut._ 'Tis for your sake I stay: I must not suffer you to be wronged.

_Mons._ Come, no wheedling, aunt: come away.

_Mrs. Caut._ That slippery fellow will do't.

_Mons._ Let him do't.

_Mrs. Caut._ Indeed he will do't; royally he will.

_Mons._ Well, let him do't, royally.

_Mrs. Caut._ He will wrong you.

_Mons._ Well, let him, I say; I have a mind to be wronged: what's that to you? I will be wronged, if you go there too, I vow and swear.

_Mrs. Caut._ You shall not be wronged.

_Mons._ I will.

_Mrs. Caut._ You shall not.

_Re-enter_ Don DIEGO.

_Don._ What's the matter? won't she be ruled?--Come, come away; you shall not disturb 'em. [Don DIEGO _and_ Monsieur _try to thrust_ Mrs. CAUTION _out._

_Mrs. Caut._ D'ye see how they laugh at you both?--Well, go to; the troth-telling Trojan gentlewoman of old was ne'er believed till the town was taken, rummaged, and ransacked. Even, even so--

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! turn out--[_Exeunt_ Mrs. CAUTION _and_ Don DIEGO.]--Lord, that people should be such arrant cuddens![65] ha! ha! ha! But I may stay, may I not?

_Hip._ No, no; I'd have you go out and hold the door, cousin; or else my father will come in again before his time.

_Mons._ I will, I will then, sweet cousin.--'Tis well thought on; that was well thought on, indeed, for me to hold the door.

_Hip._ But be sure you keep him out, cousin, till we knock.

_Mons._ I warrant you, cousin.--Lord, that people should be made such fools of! Ha! ha! ha! [_Exit._

_Ger._ So, so:--to make him hold the door, while I steal his mistress, is not unpleasant.

_Hip._ Ay, but would you do so ill a thing, so treacherous a thing? Faith 'tis not well.

_Ger._ Faith, I can't help it, since 'tis for your sake.--Come, sweetest, is not this our way into the gallery?

_Hip._ Yes; but it goes against my conscience to be accessory to so ill a thing.--You say you do it for my sake?

_Ger._ Alas, poor miss! 'tis not against your conscience, but against your modesty, you think, to do it frankly.

_Hip._ Nay, if it be against my modesty, too, I can't do it indeed.

_Ger._ Come, come, miss, let us make haste:--all's ready.

_Hip._ Nay, faith, I can't satisfy my scruple.

_Ger._ Come, dearest, this is not a time for scruples nor modesty.--Modesty between lovers is as impertinent as ceremony between friends; and modesty is now as unseasonable as on the wedding night.--Come away, my dearest.

_Hip._ Whither?

_Ger._ Nay, sure we have lost too much time already. Is that a proper question now? If you would know, come along; for I have all ready.

_Hip._ But I am not ready.

_Ger._ Truly, miss, we shall have your father come in upon us, and prevent us again, as he did in the morning.

_Hip._ 'Twas well for me he did:--for, on my conscience, if he had not come in, I had gone clear away with you when I was in the humour.

_Ger._ Come, dearest, you would frighten me, as if you were not yet in the same humour.--Come, come away; the coach and six is ready.

_Hip._ 'Tis too late to take the air, and I am not ready.

_Ger._ You were ready in the morning.

_Hip._ Ay, so I was.

_Ger._ Come, come, miss:--indeed the jest begins to be none.

_Hip._ What! I warrant you think me in jest then?

_Ger._ In jest, certainly; but it begins to be troublesome.

_Hip._ But, sir, you could believe I was in earnest in the morning, when I but seemed to be ready to go with you; and why won't you believe me now when I declare to the contrary?--I take it unkindly, that the longer I am acquainted with you, you should have the less confidence in me.

_Ger._ For Heaven's sake, miss, lose no more time thus; your father will come in upon us, as he did--

_Hip._ Let him if he will.

_Ger._ He'll hinder our design.

_Hip._ No, he will not; for mine is to stay here now.

_Ger._ Are you in earnest?

_Hip._ You'll find it so.

_Ger._ How! why, you confessed but now you would have gone with me in the morning.

_Hip._ I was in the humour then.

_Ger._ And I hope you are in the same still; you cannot change so soon.

_Hip._ Why, is it not a whole day ago?

_Ger._ What! are you not a day in the same humour?

_Hip._ Lord! that you who know the town, they say, should think any woman could be a whole day together in a humour!--ha! ha! ha!

_Ger._ Hey! this begins to be pleasant.--What! won't you go with me then after all?

_Hip._ No indeed, sir, I desire to be excused.

_Ger._ Then you have abused me all this while?

_Hip._ It may be so.

_Ger._ Could all that so natural innocency be dissembled?--faith, it could not, dearest miss.

_Hip._ Faith, it was, dear master.

_Ger._ Was it, faith?

_Hip._ Methinks you might believe me without an oath. You saw I could dissemble with my father, why should you think I could not with you?

_Ger._ So young a wheedle!

_Hip._ Ay, a mere damned jade I am.

_Ger._ And I have been abused, you say?

_Hip._ 'Tis well you can believe it at last.

_Ger._ And I must never hope for you?

_Hip._ Would you have me abuse you again?

_Ger._ Then you will not go with me?

_Hip._ No: but, for your comfort, your loss will not be great; and that you may not resent it, for once I'll be ingenuous, and disabuse you.--I am no heiress, as I told you, to twelve hundred pounds a-year; I was only a lying jade then.--Now will you part with me willingly, I doubt not.

_Ger._ I wish I could. [_Sighs._

_Hip._ Come, now I find 'tis your turn to dissemble:--but men use to dissemble for money; will you dissemble for nothing?

_Ger._ 'Tis too late for me to dissemble.

_Hip._ Don't you dissemble, faith?

_Ger._ Nay, this is too cruel.

_Hip._ What! would you take me without the twelve hundred pounds a-year? would you be such a fool as to steal a woman with nothing?

_Ger._ I'll convince you; for you shall go with me:--and since you are twelve hundred pounds a-year the lighter, you'll be the easier carried away. [_He takes her in his arms, she struggles._

_Prue._ What! he takes her way against her will:--I find I must knock for my master then. [_She knocks._

_Re-enter_ Don DIEGO _and_ Mrs. CAUTION.

_Hip._ My father! my father is here!

_Ger._ Prevented again! [GERRARD _sets her down again._

_Don._ What, you have done I hope now, friend, for good and all?

_Ger._ Yes, yes; we have done for good and all indeed.

_Don._ How now!--you seem to be out of humour, friend.

_Ger._ Yes, so I am; I can't help it.

_Mrs. Caut._ He's a dissembler in his very throat, brother.

_Hip._ Pray do not carry things so as to discover yourself, if it be but for my sake, good master. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.

_Ger._ She is grown impudent. [_Aside._

_Mrs. Caut._ See, see, they whisper, brother!--to steal a kiss under a whisper!--O the harlotry!

_Don._ What's the matter, friend?

_Hip._ I say, for my sake be in humour, and do not discover yourself, but be as patient as a dancing-master still. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.

_Don._ What, she is whispering to him indeed! What's the matter? I will know it, friend, look you.

_Ger._ Will you know it?

_Don._ Yes, I will know it.

_Ger._ Why, if you will know it then, she would not do as I would have her; and whispered me to desire me not to discover it to you.

_Don._ What, hussy, would you not do as he'd have you? I'll make you do as he'd have you.

_Ger._ I wish you would.

_Mrs. Caut._ 'Tis a lie; she'll do all he'll have her do, and more too, to my knowledge.

_Don._ Come, tell me what 'twas then she would not do--come, do it, hussy, or--Come, take her by the hand, friend. Come, begin:--let's see if she will not do anything now I'm here!

_Hip._ Come, pray be in humour, master.

_Ger._ I cannot dissemble like you.

_Don._ What, she can't dissemble already, can she?

_Mrs. Caut._ Yes, but she can: but 'tis with you she dissembles: for they are not fallen out, as we think. For I'll be sworn I saw her just now give him the languishing eye, as they call it, that is, the whiting's eye, of old called the sheep's eye:--I'll be sworn I saw it with these two eyes; that I did.

_Hip._ You'll betray us; have a care, good master. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.

_Don._ Hold your peace, I say, silly woman!--but does she dissemble already?--how do you mean?

_Ger._ She pretends she can't do what she should do; and that she is not in humour.--The common excuse of women for not doing what they should do.

_Don._ Come, I'll put her in humour.--Dance, I say.--Come, about with her, master.

_Ger._ [_Aside._] I am in a pretty humour to dance.--[_To_ HIPPOLITA.] I cannot fool any longer, since you have fooled me.

_Hip._ You would not be so ungenerous as to betray the woman that hated you! I do not do that yet. For Heaven's sake! for this once be more obedient to my desires than your passion. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.

_Don._ What! is she humoursome still?--but methinks you look yourself as if you were in an ill-humour:--but about with her.

_Ger._ I am in no good dancing humour, indeed.

_Re-enter_ Monsieur.

_Mons._ Well, how goes the dancing forward?--What, my aunt here to disturb 'em again?

_Don._ Come! come! [GERRARD _leads her about._

_Mrs. Caut._ I say, stand off;--thou shall not come near. Avoid, Satan! as they say.

_Don._ Nay, then we shall have it:--nephew, hold her a little, that she may not disturb 'em.--Come, now away with her.

_Ger._ One, two, and a coupee.--[_Aside._] Fooled and abused--

_Mrs. Caut._ Wilt thou lay violent hands upon thy own natural aunt, wretch? [_To_ Monsieur.

_Don._ Come, about with her.

_Ger._ One, two, three, four, and turn round--[_Aside._] by such a piece of innocency!

_Mrs. Caut._ Dost thou see, fool, how he squeezes her hand? [_To_ Monsieur.

_Mons._ That won't do, aunt.

_Hip._ Pray, master, have patience, and let's mind our business.

_Don._ Why did you anger him then, hussy, look you?

_Mrs. Caut._ Do you see how she smiles in his face, and squeezes his hand now? [_To_ Monsieur.

_Mons._ Your servant, aunt.--That won't do, I say.

_Hip._ Have patience, master.

_Ger._ [_Aside._] I am become her sport!--[_Aloud._] One, two, three--Death! hell! and the devil!

_Don._ Ay, they are three indeed!--But pray have patience.

_Mrs. Caut._ Do you see how she leers upon him, and clings to him? Can you suffer it? [_To_ Monsieur.

_Mons._ Ay, ay.

_Ger._ One, two, three, and a slur.--Can you be so unconcerned after all?

_Don._ What! is she unconcerned?--Hussy, mind your business.

_Ger._ One, two, three, and turn round;--one, two, fall back--hell and damnation!

_Don._ Ay, people fall back indeed into hell and damnation, Heaven knows!

_Ger._ One, two, three, and your honour.--I can fool no longer!

_Mrs. Caut._ Nor will I be withheld any longer, like a poor hen in her pen, while the kite is carrying away her chicken before her face.

_Don._ What, have you done?--Well then, let's see her dance it now to the violin.

_Mons._ Ay, ay, let's see her dance it to the violin.

_Ger._ Another time, another time.

_Don._ Don't you believe that, friend:--these dancing-masters make no bones of breaking their words. Did not you promise just now, I should see her dance it to the violin? and that I will too, before I stir.

_Ger._ Let monsieur play then while I dance with her--she can't dance alone.

_Mons._ I can't play at all; I'm but a learner:--but if you'll play, I'll dance with her.

_Ger._ I can't play neither.

_Don._ What! a dancing-master, and not play!

_Mrs. Caut._ Ay, you see what a dancing-master he is. 'Tis as I told you, I warrant.--A dancing-master, and not play upon the fiddle!

_Don._ How!

_Hip._ O you have betrayed us all! If you confess that, you undo us for ever. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.

_Ger._ I cannot play;--what would you have me say? [_Apart to_ HIPPOLITA.

_Mons._ I vow and swear we are all undone if you cannot play. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.

_Don._ What! are you a dancing-master, and cannot play? Umph--

_Hip._ He is only out of humour, sir.--Here, master, I know you will play for me yet;--for he has an excellent hand. [_She offers_ GERRARD _the violin._

_Mons._ Ay, that he has.--[_Aside._] At giving a box on the ear.

_Don._ Why does he not play, then?

_Hip._ Here, master, pray play for my sake. [_Gives_ GERRARD _the violin._

_Ger._ What would you have me do with it?--I cannot play a stroke. [_Apart to_ HIPPOLITA.

_Hip._ No! stay--then seem to tune it, and break the strings. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.

_Ger._ Come then.--[_Aside._] Next to the devil's, the invention of women! They'll no more want an excuse to cheat a father with, than an opportunity to abuse a husband.--[_Aloud._] But what do you give me such a damned fiddle with rotten strings, for? [_Winds up the strings till they break, and throws the violin on the ground._

_Don._ Hey-day! the dancing-master is frantic.

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! That people should be made such fools of! [_Aside._

_Mrs. Caut._ He broke the strings on purpose, because he could not play.--You are blind, brother.

_Don._ What! will you see further than I, look you?

_Hip._ But pray, master, why in such haste? [GERRARD _offers to go._

_Ger._ Because you have done with me.

_Don._ But don't you intend to come to-morrow, again?

_Ger._ Your daughter does not desire it.

_Don._ No matter; I do; I must be your paymaster, I'm sure. I would have you come betimes too; not only to make her perfect, but since you have so good a hand upon the violin, to play your part with half-a-dozen of musicians more, whom I would have you bring with you: for we will have a very merry wedding, though a very private one.--You'll be sure to come?

_Ger._ Your daughter does not desire it.

_Don._ Come, come, baggage, you shall desire it of him; he is your master.

_Hip._ My father will have me desire it of you, it seems.

_Ger._ But you'll make a fool of me again if I should come; would you not?

_Hip._ If I should tell you so, you'd be sure not to come.

_Don._ Come, come, she shall not make a fool of you, upon my word. I'll secure you, she shall do what you will have her.

_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! So, so, silly Don. [_Aside._

_Ger._ But, madam, will you have me come?

_Hip._ I'd have you to know, for my part, I care not whether you come or no:--there are other dancing-masters to be had:--it is my father's request to you. All that I have to say to you is a little good advice, which, because I will not shame you, I'll give you in private. [_Whispers_ GERRARD.

_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!

_Don._ Well, a penny for the secret, daughter.

_Hip._ Indeed, father, you shall have it for nothing to-morrow.

_Don._ Well, friend, you will not fail to come?

_Ger._ No, no, sir.--[_Aside._] Yet I am a fool if I do.

_Don._ And be sure you bring the fiddlers with you, as I bid you.

_Hip._ Yes, be sure you bring the fiddlers with you, as I bid you.

_Mrs. Caut._ So, so: he'll fiddle your daughter out of the house.--Must you have fiddles, with a fiddle faddle?

_Mons._ Lord! that people should be made such fools of! Ha! ha! [_Aside._

[_Exeunt_ Don DIEGO, HIPPOLITA, Monsieur, Mrs. CAUTION, _and_ PRUE.

_Ger_.

Fortune we sooner may than woman trust: To her confiding gallant she is just; But falser woman only him deceives, Who to her tongue and eyes most credit gives.

[_Exit._

ACT THE FIFTH.