_Aim._ She consented after to the match; and still I dare believe she will be just. _Arch._ To herself, I warrant her; as you should have been. _Aim._ By all my hopes, she comes! and smiling comes. _Enter_ DORINDA, _gaily_. _Dor._ Come, my dear lord, I fly with impatience to your arms.--The minutes of my absence was a tedious year.--Where's this priest? _Enter_ FOIGARD. _Arch._ Oons! a brave girl! _Dor._ I suppose, my lord, this gentleman is privy to our affairs? _Arch._ Yes, yes, madam, I'm to be your father. _Dor._ Come, priest, do your office. _Arch._ Make haste, make haste! couple them any way. [_Takes_ AIMWELL'S _Hand_.] Come, madam, I'm to give you---- _Dor._ My mind's altered--I won't. _Arch._ Eh! _Aim._ I'm confounded! _Foig._ Upon my shoul, and so is myshelf! _Arch._ What's the matter now, madam? _Dor._ Lookye, sir, one generous action deserves another.--This gentleman's honour obliged him to hide nothing from me; my justice engages me to conceal nothing from him. In short, sir, you are the person that you thought you counterfeited; you are the true Lord Viscount Aimwell, and I wish your lordship joy.--Now, priest, you may begone;--if my lord is now pleased with the match, let his lordship marry me in the face of the world. _Aim._ Archer, what does she mean? _Dor._ Here's a witness for my truth. _Enter_ SIR CHARLES, _and_ MRS. SULLEN. _Sir C._ My dear Lord Aimwell, I wish you joy! _Aim._ Of what? _Sir C._ Of your honour and estate. Your brother died the day before I left London; and all your friends have writ after you to Brussels: among the rest, I did myself the honour. _Arch._ Harkye, sir knight, don't you banter now? _Sir C._ 'Tis truth, upon my honour. _Aim._ Thanks to the pregnant stars, that formed this accident. _Arch._ Thanks to the womb of time, that brought it forth--away with it. _Aim._ Thanks to my guardian angel, that led me to the prize. [_Taking_ DORINDA'S _Hand_. _Arch._ And double thanks to the noble Sir Charles Freeman.--My lord, I wish you joy. My lady, I wish you joy.--Egad, Sir Charles, you're the honestest fellow living.--'Sdeath! I'm grown strangely airy upon this matter.----My lord, how d'ye?----A word, my lord: Don't you remember something of a previous agreement, that entitles me to the moiety of this lady's fortune, which, I think, will amount to ten thousand pounds? _Aim._ Not a penny, Archer: you would have cut my throat just now, because I would not deceive this lady. _Arch._ Ay, and I'll cut your throat still, if you should deceive her now. _Aim._ That's what I expect; and to end the dispute, the lady's fortune is twenty thousand pounds, we'll divide stakes; take the twenty thousand pounds, or the lady. _Dor._ How! is your lordship so indifferent? _Arch._ No, no, no, madam! his lordship knows very well, that I'll take the money; I leave you to his lordship, and so we are both provided for. _Enter_ FOIGARD.