_Hip._ You can't, you can't indeed, father: and you have sworn, you know, he shall never have me, if he does not leave off his monsieurship. Now, as I told you, 'tis as hard for him to cease being a monsieur, as 'tis for you to break a Spanish oath; so that I am not in any great danger of having a monsieur to my husband. _Don._ Well, but you shall have him for your husband, look you. _Hip._ Then you will break your Spanish oath. _Don._ No, I will break him of his French tricks; and you shall have him for your husband, _cuerno!_ _Hip._ Indeed and indeed, father, I shall not have him. _Don._ Indeed you shall, daughter. _Hip._ Well, you shall see, father. _Mrs. Caut._ No, I warrant you, she will not have him, she'll have her dancing-master rather: I know her meaning, I understand her. _Don._ Thou malicious foolish woman! you understand her!--But I do understand her; she says, I will not break my oath, nor he his French customs; so, through our difference, she thinks she shall not have him: but she shall. _Hip._ But I shan't. _Mrs. Caut._ I know she will not have him, because she hates him. _Don._ I tell you, if she does hate him, 'tis a sign she will have him for her husband; for 'tis not one of a thousand that marries the man she loves, look you. Besides, 'tis all one whether she loves him now or not; for as soon as she's married, she'd be sure to hate him. That's the reason we wise Spaniards are jealous, and only expect, nay, will be sure our wives shall fear us, look you. _Hip._ Pray, good father and aunt, do not dispute about nothing; for I am sure he will never be my husband to hate. _Mrs. Caut._ I am of your opinion, indeed; I understand you. I can see as far as another. _Don._ You! you cannot see so much as through your spectacles!--But I understand her: 'tis her mere desire to marriage makes her say she shall not have him; for your poor young things, when they are once in the teens, think they shall never be married. _Hip._ Well, father, think you what you will; but I know what I think. _Re-enter_ Monsieur de PARIS _in the Spanish habit entire, only with a cravat, and followed by the little_ Blackamoor _with a golilla_[62] _in his hand._ _Don._ Come, did not I tell you, you should have him? look you there, he has complied with me, and is a perfect Spaniard. _Mons._ Ay! ay! I am ugly rogue enough now, sure, for my cousin. But 'tis your father's fault, cousin, that you han't the handsomest, best-dressed man in the nation; a man _bien mis_. _Don._ Yet again at your French! and a cravat on still! _voto á St. Jago!_ off, off, with it! _Mons._ Nay, I will ever hereafter speak clownish good English, do but spare me my cravat. _Don._ I am _un positivo_, look you. _Mons._ Let me not put on that Spanish yoke, but spare me my cravat; for I love cravat _furieusement_. _Don._ Again at your _furieusements!_ _Mons._ Indeed I have forgot myself: but have some mercy. [_Kneels._