other, and your whiſpers, and your glances, and your always ſitting next to one another at dinner, and your long walks together in the evening—For my part, if I had not been in the ſecret, I ſhou'd have known you were a pair of loviers at leaſt, if not man and wife, as
Fanny. See there now! again. Pray be careful.
Betty. Well—well—nobody hears me.—Man and wife—I'll ſay ſo no more—what I tell you is very true for all that—
Lovewell. [calling within.] William!
Betty. Hark! I hear your huſband—
Fanny. What!
Betty. I ſay, here comes Mr. Lovewell—Mind the caution I give you—I'll be whipped now, if you are not the firſt perſon he ſees or ſpeaks to in the family—However, if you chuſe it, it's nothing at all to me—as you ſow, you muſt reap—as you brew, ſo you muſt bake.—I'll e'en ſlip down the back-ſtairs, and leave you together.
[Exit.
Fanny alone.
I ſee, I ſee I ſhall never have a moment's eaſe till our marriage is made publick. New diſtreſſes croud in upon me every day. The ſollicitude of my mind ſinks my ſpirits, preys upon my health, and deſtroys every comfort of my life. It ſhall be revealed, let what will be the conſequence.
Enter Lovewell.
Lovew. My love!—How's this?—In tears?—Indeed this is too much. You promiſed me to ſupport your ſpirits, and to wait the determination of our fortune with patience.—For my ſake, for your own, be comforted! Why will you ſtudy to add to our uneaſineſs and perplexity?
Fanny. Oh, Mr. Lovewell! The indelicacy of a ſecret marriage grows every day more and more ſhocking to me. I walk about the houſe like a guilty wretch: I imagine myſelf the object of the ſuſpicion
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