_Vict._ I congratulate your missing of the other. _Pen._ I heartily believe you, my dear friend. _O. Book._ But we best guide our actions by hopes of reward. Could but my son have such a glorious prospect as this fair one. [_To_ VICTORIA.] I doubt not but his future carriage would deserve her. _Vict._ I believe I may safely promise to approve of all the truth he tells me. _Y. Book._ You've promised, then, to like all I shall say. _O. Book._ These unexpected good events deserve our celebration with some mirth and fiddles. _Fred._ I foresaw this happy turn, therefore have prepared 'em. Call in the dancers. _Song, by_ MR. LEVERIDGE. I. The rolling years the joys restore, Which happy, happy Britain knew, When in a female age before Beauty the sword of justice drew. II. Nymphs and fawns, and rural powers, Of crystal floods and shady bowers, No more shall here preside; The flowing wave and living green, Owe only to their present queen Their safety and their pride. III. United air and pleasures bring, Of tender note and tuneful string, All your arts devoted are To move the innocent and fair. While they receive the pleasing wound, Echo repeats the dying sound. _Y. Book._ Since such deserved misfortunes they must share, Who with gay falsehoods entertain the fair; Let all with this just maxim guide their youth, There is no gallantry in love but truth. [_Exeunt._ EPILOGUE. Our too advent'rous author soared to-night Above the little praise, mirth to excite, And chose with pity to chastise delight. For laughter's a distorted passion, born Of sudden self-esteem and sudden scorn; Which, when 'tis o'er, the men in pleasure wise, Both him that moved it and themselves despise; While generous pity of a painted woe Makes us ourselves both more approve and know. What is that touch within which nature gave For man to man e'er fortune made a slave? Sure it descends from that dread Power alone, Who levels thunder from His awful throne, And shakes both worlds--yet hears the wretched groan. 'Tis what the ancient sage could ne'er define, Wondered--and called part human, part divine; 'Tis that pure joy which guardian angels know, When timely they assist their care below, When they the good protect, the ill oppose; 'Tis what our sovereign feels when she bestows, Which gives her glorious cause such high success, That only on the stage you see distress. _THE TENDER HUSBAND:_ OR _THE ACCOMPLISHED FOOLS._ "Oportet ut is qui audiat cogitet plura quam videat."[77] CICERO DE ORATORE.