Alice. Anon!
Young joints take no thought of agéd ones,
But ever think them as supple as themselves.
Wal. Alice!
Alice. [Opening the door.] I’m here!—A mercy!—
Is she dead?
[Enter Master Waller, bearing Lydia, fainting.]
Wal. No, she but faints.—A chair!—Quick, Alice, quick!
Water to bathe her temples.
[Alice goes out.]
Such a turn
Kind fortune never do me. Shall I kiss
To life these frozen lips?—No!—of her plight
’Twere base to take advantage.
[Alice returns, &c.]
All is well,
The blood returns.
Alice. How wondrous fair she is!