Enter Myrrhina hastily.
Myrr. What shall I do? - Confusion! - which way turn? Alas! what answer shall I make my husband? For I dare say he heard the infant's cries, He ran so hastily, without a word, Into my daughter's chamber. If he finds That she has been deliver'd, what excuse To make, for having thus conceal'd her labor, I can't devise. - But our door creaks! - 'tis he. I am undone.