Dor. 'Tis very late, sister; no news of your spouse yet?
Mrs. Sul. No; I'm condemned to be alone till towards four, and then, perhaps, I may be executed with his company.
Dor. Well, my dear, I'll leave you to your rest; you'll go directly to bed, I suppose.
Mrs. Sul. I don't know what to do; heigho!
Dor. That's a desiring sigh, sister.
Mrs. Sul. This is a languishing hour, sister.
Dor. And might prove a critical minute, if the pretty fellow were here.
Mrs. Sul. Here? what, in my bedchamber, at two o'clock i'th' morning, I undressed, the family asleep, my hated husband abroad, and my lovely fellow at my feet!——O, gad, sister!
Dor. Thoughts are free, sister, and them I allow you—So, my dear, good night. [Exit.
Mrs. Sul. A good rest to my dear Dorinda——Thoughts free! are they so? why, then, suppose him here, dressed like a youthful, gay, and burning bridegroom, [Archer steals out of the Closet.] with tongue enchanting, eyes bewitching, knees imploring [Turns a little on one Side, and sees Archer in the Posture she describes.]—Ah! [Shrieks, and runs to the other Side of the Stage.]. Have my thoughts raised a spirit? What are you, sir? a man, or a devil?