_Arch._ For shame, ladies, what d'ye do? why don't you help us?--Pray, madam, [_To_ DORINDA.] 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 B._ 'Tis the violence of his convulsion, child. _Arch._ Oh, madam, he's perfectly possessed in these cases--he'll bite you, if you don't have a care. _Dor._ Oh, my hand, my hand! _Lady B._ What's the matter with the foolish girl? I have got this hand open you see with a great deal of ease. _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 are very learned in these sort 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._ [_Aside._] I fancy I could find a way to cure you. _Lady B._ His fit holds him very long. _Arch._ Longer than usual, madam.---- _Lady B._ Where did his illness take him first, pray! _Arch._ To-day, at church, madam. _Lady B._ In what manner was he taken? _Arch._ Very strangely, my lady. He was of a sudden touched with something in his eyes, which at the first he only felt, but could not tell whether 'twas pain or pleasure. _Lady B._ Wind, nothing but wind.----Your master should never go without a bottle to smell to----Oh!----he recovers----the lavender water----some feathers to burn under his nose--Hungary water to rub his temples----Oh, he comes to himself. Hem a little, sir, hem----Gipsey, bring the cordial water. [AIMWELL _seems to awake in amaze_. _Dor._ How do you, sir? _Aim._ Where am I? [_Rising._ Sure I have passed the gulf of silent death, And now am landed on the Elysian shore. Behold the goddess of those happy plains, Fair Proserpine--let me adore thy bright divinity. [_Kneels to_ DORINDA, _and kisses her Hand_. _Mrs. Sul._ So, so, so; I knew where the fit would end. _Aim._ Eurydice, perhaps---- How could thy Orpheus keep his word, And not look back upon thee; No treasure but thyself could sure have brib'd him To look one minute off thee. _Lady B._ Delirious, poor gentleman. _Arch._ Very delirious, madam, very delirious. _Aim._ Martin's voice, I think. _Arch._ Yes, my lord--How does your lordship? _Lady B._ Lord! did you mind that, girls? _Aim._ Where am I? _Arch._ In very good hands, sir--You were taken just now with one of your old fits, under the trees, just by this good lady's house; her ladyship had you taken in, and has miraculously brought you to yourself, as you see---- _Aim._ I am so confounded with shame, madam, that I can now only beg pardon----And refer my acknowledgments for your ladyship's care till an opportunity offers of making some amends--I dare be no longer troublesome--Martin, give two guineas to the servants. [_Going._