Lilies unfold their white, their fragrant charms,
When the warm sun thus darts into their arms.
[Runs to her.
Mrs. Sul. Ah! [Shrieks.
Arch. 'Oons, madam, what d' ye mean? you 'll raise the house. [51]
Mrs. Sul. Sir, I 'll wake the dead before I bear this!— What! approach me with the freedom of a keeper! I 'm glad on't, your impudence has cured me.
Arch. If this be impudence—[Kneels.] I leave to your partial self; no panting pilgrim, after a tedious, painful voyage, e'er bowed before his saint with more devotion. [58]
Mrs. Sul. [Aside.] Now, now, I 'm ruined if he kneels! —[Aloud.] Rise, thou prostrate engineer, not all thy undermining skill shall reach my heart.—Rise, and know I am a woman without my sex; I can love to all the tenderness of wishes, sighs, and tears —but go no farther.—Still, to convince you-that I'm more than woman, I can speak my frailty, confess my weakness even for you, but—
Arch. For me! [Going to lay hold on her.
Mrs. Sul. Hold, sir! build not upon that; for my most mortal hatred follows if you disobey what I command you now.—Leave me this minute.—[Aside.] If he denies I 'm lost. [71]
