Lady Boun. Ah, poor gentleman!—Come, friend, show me the way; I’ll see him brought in myself.

[Exit with Archer.

Dor. O sister, my heart flutters about strangely! I can hardly forbear running to his assistance.

Mrs. Sul. And I’ll lay my life he deserves your assistance more than he wants it. Did not I tell you that my lord would find a way to come at you? Love’s his distemper, and you must be the physician; put on all your charms, summon all your fire into your eyes, plant the whole artillery of your looks against his breast, and down with him.

Dor. O sister! I’m but a young gunner; I shall be afraid to shoot, for fear the piece should recoil, and hurt myself.

Mrs. Sul. Never fear, you shall see me shoot before you, if you will.

Dor. No, no, dear sister; you have missed your mark so unfortunately, that I shan’t care for being instructed by you.

Enter Aimwell in a chair carried by Archer and Scrub, and counterfeiting a swoon; Lady Bountiful and Gipsy following.

Lady Boun. Here, here, let’s see the hartshorn drops.—Gipsy, a glass of fair water! His fit’s very strong.—Bless me, how his hands are clinched!

Arch. For shame, ladies, what d’ye do? why don’t you help us?—[To Dorinda.] Pray, madam, take his hand, and open it, if you can, whilst I hold his head.

[Dorinda takes his hand.

Dor. Poor gentleman!—Oh!— he has got my hand within his, and squeezes it unmercifully—

Lady Boun. ’Tis the violence of his convulsion, child.

Arch. Oh, madam, he’s perfectly possessed in these cases—he’ll bite if you don’t have a care.

Dor. Oh, my hand! my hand!

Lady Boun. What’s the matter with the foolish girl? I have got his hand open, you see, with a great deal of case.

Arch. Ay, but, madam, your daughter’s hand is somewhat warmer than your ladyship’s, and the heat of it draws the force of the spirits that way.

Mrs. Sul. I find, friend, you’re very learned in these sorts of fits.

Arch. ’Tis no wonder, madam, for I’m often troubled with them myself; I find myself extremely ill at this minute.

[Looking hard at Mrs. Sullen.

Mrs. Sul. I fancy I could find a way to cure you.

[Aside.

Lady Boun. His fit holds him very long.