Ors. How, sir? You seem disturbed. Perhaps your reflections are not so happy as mine. It may be your mistress has not such an adoring and adorable eye—can not feast you with her cheeks—[kisses Eldra]—regale you with her lips—[kisses her]
Ste. Scoundrel! Kiss my wife? [Takes him by collar and throws him aside]
Eld. My Stephen!
Ste. My Eldra!
Eld. [Running to his arms] I knew it was you!
Ste. I knew it was you!
Eld. Why didn't you tell me?
Ste. Why didn't you tell me?
Ors. As a man of dignity now, I should like to ask why you didn't tell me!
Ste. [Dancing up and down stage with Eldra] Ay, Orson, 'tis a merry day! Come, come! Here's a good ale for all. To you, Orson! [Drinks] And let the song go 'round!