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.