_Fust_. Yes, sir, she knows what she has seen so often; but you find she mistakes the cause, and Common Sense can never beat it into her. _Q. Ign_. Sense is the parent still of fear; the fox, Wise beast, who knows the treachery of men, Flies their society, and skulks in woods, While the poor goose, in happiness and ease, Fearless grows fat within its narrow coop, And thinks the hand that feeds it is its friend; Then yield thee, Common Sense, nor rashly dare Try a vain combat with superior force. _Q. C. S_. Know, queen, I never will give up the cause Of all these followers: when at the head Of all these heroes I resign my right, May my curst name be blotted from the earth! _Sneer_. Methinks, Common Sense, though, ought to give it up, when she has no more to defend it. _Fust_. It does indeed look a little odd at present; but I'll get her an army strong enough against its acted. Come, go on. _Q. Ign_. Then thus I hurl defiance at thy head. Draw all your swords. _Q. C. S_. And, gentlemen, draw yours. _Q. Ign_. Fall on; have at thy heart. [_A fight_ _Q. C. S_. And have at thine. _Fust_. Oh, fie upon't, fie upon't! I never saw a worse battle in all my life upon any stage. Pray, gentlemen, come some of you over to the other side. _Sneer_. These are Swiss soldiers, I perceive, Mr Fustian; they care not which side they fight of. _Fust_. Now, begin again, if you please, and fight away; pray fight as if you were in earnest, gentlemen. [_They fight_.] Oons, Mr Prompter! I fancy you hired these soldiers out of the trained bands--they are afraid to fight even in jest. [_They fight again_.] There, there--pretty well. I think, Mr Sneerwell, we have made a shift to make out a good sort of a battle at last. _Sneer_. Indeed I cannot say I ever saw a better. _Fust_. You don't seem, Mr Sneerwell, to relish this battle greatly. _Sneer_. I cannot profess myself the greatest admirer of this part of tragedy; and I own my imagination can better conceive the idea of a battle from a skilful relation of it than from such a representation; for my mind is not able to enlarge the stage into a vast plain, nor multiply half a score into several thousands. _Fust_. Oh; your humble servant! but if we write to please you and half a dozen others, who will pay the charges of the house? Sir, if the audience will be contented with a battle or two, instead of all the raree-fine shows exhibited to them in what they call entertainments---- _Sneer_. Pray, Mr Fustian, how came they to give the name of entertainments to their pantomimical farces?