_Cor._ Look you, _Flippanta_, I can hold no longer, and I hate to see the young man abus'd. And so, Sir, if you please, I'm your friend and servant, and what's mine is yours; and when our estates are put together, I don't doubt but we shall do as well as the best of 'em. _Dick._ Say'st thou so, my little queen? Why then if dear mother will give us her blessing, the parson shall give us a tack. We'll get her a score of grand-children, and a merry house we'll make her. [_They kneel to Mrs. ~Amlet~._ _Aml._ Ah----ha, ha, ha, the pretty pair, the pretty pair! rise my chickens, rise, rise and face the proudest of them. And if Madam does not deign to give her consent, a fig for her _Dick_----Why how now? _Clar._ Pray, Mrs. _Amlet_, don't be in a passion, the girl is my husband's girl, and if you can have his consent, upon my word you shall have mine, for any thing that belongs to him. _Flip._ Then all is peace again, but we have been more lucky than wise. _Aram._ And I suppose, for us, _Clarissa_, we are to go on with our dears, as we us'd to do. _Clar._ Just in the same track, for this late treaty of agreement with 'em, was so unnatural, you see it cou'd not hold. But 'tis just as well with us, as if it had. Well, 'tis a strange fate, good folks. But while you live, every thing gets well out of a broil, but a husband. EPILOGUE, Spoken by Mrs. =Barry=. _I've heard wise men in politicks lay down } What feats by little England might be done, } Were all agreed, and all would act as one. } Ye wives a useful hint from this might take, } The heavy, old, despotick kingdom shake, } And make your matrimonial_ Monsieurs _quake. } Our heads are feeble, and we're cramp'd by laws; Our hands are weak, and not too strong our cause: Yet would those heads and hands, such as they are, } In firm confed'racy resolve on war, } You'd find your tyrants----what I've found my dear. } What only two united can produce You've seen to-night, a sample for your use: Single, we found we nothing could obtain; We join our force--and we subdu'd our men. Believe me (my dear sex) they are not brave; Try each your man, you'll quickly find your slave. I know they'll make campaigns, risk blood and life; } But this is a more terrifying strife; } They'll stand a shot, who'll tremble at a wife. } Beat then your drums, and your shrill trumpets sound, } Let all your visits of your feats resound: } And deeds of war in cups of tea go round: }