Aim. Freeman!—One word, Archer. Still I have hopes; methought she received my confession with pleasure.
Arch. 'Sdeath, who doubts it?
Aim. She consented after to the match; and still I dare believe she will be just. [81]
Arch. To herself, I warrant her, as you should have been.
Aim. By all my hopes she comes, and smiling comes!
Re-enter Dorinda, mighty gay.
Dor. Come, my dear lord—I fly with impatience to your arms—the minutes of my absence were a tedious year. Where's this priest?
Re-enter Foigard.
Arch. 'Oons, a brave girl!
Dor. I suppose, my lord, this gentleman is privy to our affairs? [90]
