_Don._ His name! why, 'tis an easy matter to tell you a false name, I hope. _Mrs. Caut._ So! must you teach him to cheat us? _Don._ Why did you say my questions were not shrewd questions, then? _Mrs. Caut._ And why would you not let me ask him the question, then? Brother, brother, ever while you live, for all your Spanish wisdom, let an old woman make discoveries: the young fellows cannot cheat us in anything, I'd have you to know. Set your old woman still to grope out an intrigue, because, you know, the mother found her daughter in the oven. A word to the wise, brother. _Don._ Come, come, leave this tattling: he has dishonoured my family, debauched my daughter; and what if he could excuse himself? The Spanish proverb says, excuses neither satisfy creditors nor the injured. The wounds of honour must have blood and wounds, _St. Jago para mi!_ [_Kisses the cross of his sword, and runs at_ GERRARD. _Hip._ O hold, dear father! and I'll confess all. _Ger._ She will not, sure, after all. [_Aside._ _Hip._ My cousin sent him; because, as he said, he would have me recover my dancing a little before our wedding, having made a vow he would never marry a wife who could not dance a corant. I am sure I was unwilling; but he would have him come, saying I was to be his wife as soon as you came, and therefore expected obedience from me. _Don._ Indeed, the venture is most his, and the shame would be most his; for I know here in England, 'tis not the custom for the father to be much concerned what the daughter does; but I will be a Spaniard still. _Hip._ Did not you hear him say last night he would send me one this morning? _Mrs. Caut._ No, not I, sure. If I had, he had never come here. _Hip._ Indeed, aunt, you grow old I see; your memory fails you very much. Did not you hear him, Prue, say he would send him to me? _Prue._ Yes, I'll be sworn did I. _Hip._ Look you there, aunt. _Mrs. Caut._ I wonder I should not remember it. _Don._ Come, come, you are a doting old fool. _Mrs. Caut._ So! So! the fault will be mine now. But pray, mistress, how did he come in? I am sure I had the keys of the doors, which, till your father came in, were not opened to-day. _Hip._ He came in just after my father, I suppose. _Mrs. Caut._ It might be, indeed, while the porters brought in the things, and I was talking with you. _Don._ O, might he so, forsooth! you are a brave governante! Look you, you a duenna, _voto!_--and not know who comes in and out! _Mrs. Caut_ So! 'tis my fault, I know. _Don._ Your maid was in the room with you; was she not, child? _Hip._ Yes, indeed, and indeed, father, all the while. _Don._ Well, child, I am satisfied then.--But I hope he does not use the dancing-master's tricks, of squeezing your hands, setting your legs and feet, by handling your thighs and seeing your legs. _Hip._ No, indeed, father: I'd give him a box on the ear if he should.