You are over-wrought. (Aside.) By heaven, what brutes we are!
’Twere kinder far to tell her at once—Diana!
Dearest Diana! (Aside.) What am I doing?—Flora! Flora!
Re-enter Flora.
Fl. My lady in one of her fits!
R. What is it? Look at her, Flora!
Fl.To fan her face,—that’s all.
She will come to herself. See, see!
R. (aside). This lump 's not fit to touch her.—
My lady!—Diana!