They are certainly coming.

Oh, no! here let me--thus let me sit and think.

[_Widow on her couch; while she is raving, as to herself_, TATTLEAID _softly introduces the ladies_.] Wretched, disconsolate, as I am!...

Alas! alas! Oh! oh! I swoon! I expire! [_Faints_.
"SECOND LADY.

Pray, Mrs.Tattleaid, bring something that is cordial to her.