Arch. Yes, yes, madam, I 'm to be your father.
Dor. Come, priest, do your office.
Arch. Make haste, make haste, couple 'em any way.— [Takes Aimwells hand.] Come, madam, I 'm to give you—
Dor. My mind's altered; I won't.
Arch. Eh!
Aim. I 'm confounded!
Foi. Upon my shoul, and sho is myshelf.
Arch. What 's the matter now, madam? [100]
Dor. Look'ee, sir, one generous action deserves another. —This gentleman's honour obliged him to hide nothing from me; my justice engages me to conceal nothing from him. In short, sir, you are the person that you thought you counterfeited; you are the true Lord Viscount Aimwell, and I wish your Lordship joy.—Now, priest, you may be gone; if my Lord is pleased now with the match, let his Lordship marry me in the face of the world.
Aim., Arch. What does she mean? [110]