Lady B. Gentlemen, could we understand how you would be gratified for the services——
Arch. Come, come, my lady, this is no time for compliments; I'm wounded, madam.
Lady B. and Mrs. Sul. How! wounded!
Dor. I hope, sir, you have received no hurt?
Aim. None but what you may cure——
[Makes love in dumb Show.
Lady B. Let me see your arm, sir—I must have some powder sugar, to stop the blood——O me! an ugly gash; upon my word, sir, you must go into bed.
Arch. Ay, my lady, a bed would do very well——Madam, [To Mrs. Sullen.] will you do me the favour to conduct me to a chamber?
Lady B. Do, do, daughter,——while I get the lint, and the probe, and plaister ready.
[Runs out one Way; Aimwell carries off Dorinda another.