afraid I shall have a fit.

LAET. Bless me! What fit?

BELL. Oh, a convulsion--I feel the symptoms.

LAET. Does it hold you long? I'm afraid to carry you into my
chamber.

BELL. Oh, no: let me lie down upon the bed; the fit will be soon
over.


SCENE VIII.


SCENE: St. James's Park.

ARAMINTA and BELINDA meeting.

BELIN. Lard, my dear, I am glad I have met you; I have been at the
Exchange since, and am so tired -

ARAM. Why, what's the matter?

BELIN. Oh the most inhuman, barbarous hackney-coach! I am jolted
to a jelly. Am I not horribly touzed? [Pulls out a pocket-glass.]

ARAM. Your head's a little out of order.