Laura: Go then, quickly. Stay! I am going to write a word. That will hurry him more. I will do it in an instant.
(Exit Laura)
Bendish: Ah, this blow will leave us lost without resources. May the plague choke coquettes, coquettery and those who invented it. We are taken in a snare.
(Enter Cadwell)
Bendish:
Ah, sir.
Cadwell:
What's the matter with him?
Bendish:
You are lost.
Cadwell:
Really?
Bendish: Sir, Arabella, that cursed Arabella with arguments I don't understand —(hesitating to continue)
Cadwell:
Well?