Dor. How d' ye, sir?
Sure I have pass'd the gulf of silent death,
And now I land on the Elysian shore!—
Behold the goddess of those happy plains,
Fair Proserpine—let me adore thy bright divinity.
[Kneels to Dorinda, and kisses her hand.
Mrs. Sul. So, so, so! I knew where the fit would end!
Aim. Eurydice perhaps—
How could thy Orpheus keep his word, [180] And not look back upon thee?
No treasure but thyself could sure have bribed him
To look one minute off thee.
Lady Boun. Delirious, poor gentleman!
Arch. Very delirious, madam, very delirious.
Aim. Martin's voice, I think.