Dor. Here's a witness for my truth.
Enter Sir Charles Freeman and Mrs Sullen.
Sir Chas. My dear Lord Aimwell, I wish you joy.
Aim. Of what?
Sir Chas. Of your honour and estate. Your brother died the day before I left London; and all your friends have writ after you to Brussels;—among the rest I did myself the honour.
Arch. Hark 'ee, sir knight, don't you banter now?
Sir Chas. 'Tis truth, upon my honour.
Aim. Thanks to the pregnant stars that formed this accident! [121]
Arch. Thanks to the womb of time that brought it forth!—away with it!
Aim. Thanks to my guardian angel that led me to the prize! [Taking Dorindas hand].