THE
WIVES REVENGED; A
COMIC OPERA,
IN ONE ACT. As it is performed at the
THEATRE-ROYAL
IN COVENT-GARDEN.
LONDON: Printed for G. KEARSLY, No. 46, Fleet-Street. M.DCC.LXXVIII.
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE following little Piece is an imitation of the French comic operas of one act, which are generally characterized, either by their natural simplicity, or some single striking incident, and little or nothing more is designed.—It is now first attempted to introduce this species of entertainment on the English theatre, as containing excellent situations for light airs.—On the French stage, notwithstanding all their merit, they tire in the length of time taken for representation; and, were they spun out to the common length of our afterpieces, it is conceived they would be found still more insufficient.
The subject matter therefore being wholly preserved, and the dialogue both varied and compressed, they are, with every deference submitted to public judgment.
C. DIBDIN.
CHARACTERS.
MEN.
Mr.
Vermilion,
Mr. MATTOCKS.
Alderman
Tokay,
Mr. WILSON.
Deputy
Dimity,
Mr. QUICK.
WOMEN.
Mrs.
Vermilion,
Mrs. MATTOCKS.
Mrs.
Tokay,
Mrs. MORTON.
Mrs.
Dimity,
Miss WELLER.
THE WIVES REVENG'D; A COMIC OPERA.
SCENE I.
A Painting-Room in Mr. VERMILION's House; on each Side a Door opens into a separate Chamber; the Window of which is so situated, that the Audience are Witnesses to all that passes within. Mrs. VERMILION is discovered.
AIR.
COME here, all wives,
Who lead your lives
With Deary jarring,
Growling, sparring,
Bawling,
Squawling,
Swearing,
Tearing;
Who in the dumps are left to pine,
In spight of all your charms!
At the sound of my drum,
Come—hither come!
While honour's rub-a-dub you're hearing,
To my standard quick repairing,
To fight alike your cause and mine,
Behold me under arms.
Rouze, rouze! and brave them to the field,
Your tongue the weapon that ye wield,
Laurels shall crown your brow,
But if they hold out 'gainst this force,
Talk, as a
dernier resource,
Of Vengeance—you know how.
SCENE II.
Mrs. VERMILION, Mrs. TOKAY, and Mrs. DIMITY.
Ah! ha!—I have not beat my drum in vain—here come two volunteers already—Mrs. Tokay, and Mrs. Dimity, I am charm'd to see you.—You are punctual to a minute.
No wonder, when the summons was of such a serious nature.—You must see us it seems on business, which concerns us as nearly as our lives.
This business is to sup with me here this evening,—where I mean to give you a delicious repast.
But, my dear, what necessity fo such a message?
More than you are aware of.—Are you disengaged?
Yes,—my husband is gone into the country, on some particular business, 'till tomorrow.
And I am also a widow 'till that time.
They told you so, did they?—O men, how many ways do you deceive and cheat us!
What do you mean?
Why, I mean, that both your Husband, Alderman Tokay, the Wine-merchant of Portsoken ward, and your Husband, Deputy Dimity the Taylor, of Candlewick, expect the pleasure of supping this evening, in this house.
Here!
With you?
Why your husband is out of town.
How! Ma'am!—And you all alone?
Listen to me:—They have both formally made me a declaration of love, and I confess to you, I thought myself not a little flatter'd, at attracting the attention of two men, whose wives are so universally admired.—Says Mr. Alderman, you know his jocular way, Ma'am—
AIR.
That form, and all those charms, odds fish!
Are, I protest, a dainty dish;
And of your eyes, the very sight,
Really creates an appetite,
Grace, pr'ythee let me say.
I'm at a feast, and Ma'am would you
Digest a perfect man of Goût,
Who'd drink you as a toast each sup,
And who, for Love, could eat you up,
Take Alderman Tokay.
Now, Ma'am, for a specimen of your hussband's eloquence in love.—Mr. Dimity.
AIR.
In me, you think to find, perhaps,
One of those linsey-woolsey chaps,
Who of despair and daggers puff,
And all such worn-out threadbare stuff;
No, no, Ma'am, not in me.
I'm of another cloth cut out,
Well wearing; durable, and stout,
And, wou'd you, in a lover find
A fair out side, honestly lin'd,
Take Dicky Dimity.
Well, Ladies, to so much gallantry, I could not but make a most obliging answer.—You shall hear it.
AIR.
To cruelty a stranger,
How shall I 'scape this danger?
You woo with too much art;
While tender and obliging,
Thus slily you're besieging,
A poor defenceless heart.
The reason you may guess,
Why thus it flutters so;
'Tis love says yes, yes, yes,
And virtue, no, no, no.
Why you seem thunderstruck.
What a villain!
The Traitor! But I'll give him his own.
And for Mr. Tokay, I'll make him blush with shame—you shall see such a scene.—
I'll expose his infidelity to the whole world.
And my wrongs shall be known all over the town.
And so expose yourselves.—No, no, if you'll be guided by me, we'll be better reveng'd of them than all this.
How?—I'll do any thing.
Speak, dear Mrs. Vermilion!
Time presses, let me therefore tell you my scheme in as few words as possible; I have acquainted Mr. Vermilion with every thing, who is not out of town, but has only had it so reported to favour our design.—Your husbands are coming here.—I shall receive them in this painting room, because nothing can possibly pass in these two chambers adjoining, which cannot be over-heard.—And thus—but on my conscience, one of them knocks at the door now—do you slip down these back stairs, and slide out after I have conducted them up.—Then be ready for me at your house, which is but two steps off,—where I shall presently come and fetch you, and tell you every thing you have to do.
Well, well, we'll be guided by you.—Could I have believed it!—
Adieu. We'll hold ourselves in readiness.—Oh! I could tear his eyes out.
(A knocking.)
You hear, they are impatient, Ma'am!—Come, come, decamp, quick!—
SCENE III.
Mrs. VERMILION, TOKAY, and DIMITY.
Ah! my charming neighbour!
My dear, Mrs. Vermilion!
Gentlemen! to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you? don't say any thing before him that I asked you to supper:
(to Tokay)
he has a scandalous tongue.
Scandalous as a tea table, Ma'am!—I don't know what put it in the damn'd fellow's head to come here—Well, neighbour Dimity, I'm glad to see you. We happen'd to meet together, Madam, at your door, just as I was coming to pay my respects to you.
Yes, I came according to instructions to take measure.
Hush, hush! don't say I invited you here—he'd expose us—
O Lord! to the whole world.—I say, Ma'am, the remnant of the evening lay on my hands, and so I thought I could not piece it out better, than in coming to ask you how you did.
Well, Gentlemen, since it happens so, if you have no better engagement, I shall be glad of your company to eat a bit of supper with me.
You are infinitely kind. Could not you send him away?
No, no, 'twould create suspicion.
Vastly kind, indeed—Could not we get rid of him?
'Tis impossible—Come, Gentlemen, I must use you without ceremony—We have the house to ourselves—I gave the maid leave to see her aunt, and the man is gone with my husband—I am a widow for a whole week.
A week! zounds, I shall be elected without a scrutiny.
A week! Damn me, I shall cut out a fine parcel of work here!
Mr. Tokay, help me to fetch the table; and do you, Mr. Dimity, look in that closet for the table cloth, and knives and forks—Come, come, stir.
Dispose of me as you please.
(to Tokay, with whom she brings forward the table)
Ah, my dear Mr. Tokay, if that fool was not here—
My turtle! let me kiss you for that thought.
Hush! hush! he'll see us!
(to Dimity)
that's right—
(to Tokay)
now do you search in that cupboard, and you'll find a sallad ready for dressing—
(Tokay goes while she speaks to Dimity)
'Twas very kind of you to come, dear Mr. Dimity. What a pity 'tis we are not alone!
I wish to Heaven he was in one of his buts of Madeira.
Well, one journey more and all will be ready. You see I have nothing but a cold supper, but such as it is—
Oh! Madam! your company is green peas at Christmas.
Oh! truce with compliments, and sit down without ceremony.
How many jealous ones we should make now, if your husband, and our wives, knew of this.
Come, Ma'am, sit.
GLEE.
Our wives at home, your husband gone,
To them leave care and thinking;
While gaily we the hours pass on
In laughing and in drinking.
The real joys of love are shar'd
By those who are discreetest;
And here's his health who first declar'd
Stolen pleasures are the sweetest.
(after the Glee a knnockig)
Hush!
What's the matter?
Surely some one knocks.
Do you expect any body?
Not a soul.
Zounds! I hope 'tis not your husband.
Oh! no.
But if by hazard—
I hardly think it—however, in that case, I can hide you in this room—but don't concern yourselves—It can't be him; and for any body else, I'll soon send them away—
(She just looks, and returns)
Heavens! 'tis my husband sure enough; I would not have him see you for the world; get in, get in.
Stuff us in any where.
If I can, I'll send him out—Don't stir for you lives—
[They go into the room on the right hand, and by means of the window, are in sight of the audience.
SCENE IV.
Mr. VERMILION. Mrs VERMILION.
Ah! wife; you ought to have a thousand obligations to me—I did not find my man—and tho' it was so late, I was determined not to lose a moment—But I think you receive me coldly.
No love, I don't—I only—
Hey! what the devil's this?—you were going to have good cheer—a patê of partridges! Three covers! why, who the devil have you invited to supper?
Zounds! she'll never draw herself out of this scrape.
Hush! hush!
Why, my dear—I—a—I have—asked some ladies to sup with me.
Ay! who?
Why, Mrs. Tokay, and Mrs. Dimity.
Our wives!
What, our two handsome neighbours?
Yes, love; and I wonder they don't come—I wish you'd go and fetch them.
My soul, there is nothing I would not do sooner for thee, than walk.
Well, 'tis but a step, I'll go myself.
I would not trouble you, but I am so tired with my journey.
SCENE V.
(Tokay
and
Dim.
hid)
Good Heaven! how fortunate—thou little divinest, my sweet wife, what a service thou art going to do me—I shall sup with her I adore.
Do you hear him, Alderman? he says he shall sup with her he adores.
There is not her equal in the world, and my love is like her's, perfect—she is more majestic than Juno.
Ay, that's your wife, for she is the most tallest.
More willing than Io.
That's your's.
More lively than Sappho; but, to my misfortune, too virtuous.
Yes, yes, I fancy he means my wife, indeed!
Heavens! what transport! what tender, delightful extasy, to press her panting, yielding to my bosom—What is there but love makes our lives desirable?
AIR.
Love, to thee myself I give,
In thee I breathe, by thee I move,
My fleeting hours, while yet I live,
To thee shall be devoted, love.
Thou art the charm of every mind,
The young, the old, thy influence prove:
Tender, jealous, roving, kind,
We all are happy, so we love.
II.
In earliest youth how time did glide,
Cloe might well have tempted Jove,
And I, what bliss! was Cloe's pride;
Then how I sung thy praises, love!
A smile, a nothing from my fair,
I priz'd all blessings far above;
I knew not even the name of care,
Nor ought but thy sweet transports, love.
Omitted in the representation.
III.
'When ardour dampt, youth shall be past,
'From fair to fair still will I rove;
'And from this m
ment to my last,
'Untir'd, I'll sing thy praises, love:
'Each friend in this some folly sees,
'Will then such transports thee behove?
'Love! when thou ca 'st no long
r please?
'What, is it nothing then to love?
SCENE VI.
Mr. VERMILION, Mrs. VERMILION, Mrs. TOKAY,
and
Mrs. DIMITY.
(Tokay and Dimity concealed)
Ah! I am charmed—How d'ye do, Ladies?
How d'ye do, Mr. Vermilion.
How d'ye do, Mr. Vermilion.
Give me leave to embrace you, my dear neighbour, and you, Mrs. Dimity.
Lord! how you kiss one, indeed!
Why, what a devil of a fellow it is!
Come, wife, we must have another cover. Where's the servant?
I have given her leave to go out.
What exquisite pleasure to pass a few hours with you, my dear Mrs. Dimity.
My dear Mrs. Dimity! do you hear him?
Come, wife, let us set at table.—How I am transported to see my sweet Mrs. Tokay!
Sweet Mrs. Tokay.—Alderman, do you hear him?
(Sitting at table.)
Never was happiness equal to mine, flatter'd and caress'd by three charming objects, equally amiable.
GLEE.
Young Paris was blest, just as I am this hour,
When proud Juno offer'd him riches and pow'r;
When stately Minerva of war talk'd and arms,
When Venus to conquer him pleaded her charms.
These charms won the prize—What an idiot was he!
The apple of gold I'd have parted in three,
And, contenting them all by this witty device.
Given Juno,
—And Pallas,
—And Venus,
—A slice.
Given Juno, and Pallas, and Venus, a slice.
An admirable thought.—Part, then, my love, between you in the same manner.
Lord, Mr. Vermilion, how you do rattle.
Oh! we forgive him.
Well, wife, what wine do you give us?
I have forgot to fetch it.
Come, get it then, pray, my dear—you seem uneasy—Oh! I know what it is—she has to cross the garden in her way to the cellar, and she is afraid of spirits.
Well, Lord, every one is not so brave as you are.—I confess I'm foolish enough to have this absurd terror sometimes.
Dear Ma'am! I'll go with you.
Why does not he go himself?
I would go myself, if I was not so exceedingly tired.
What a devil of a reason!
Oh! we don't want you—Come, Mrs. Vermilion—
[Mrs.
Vermilion
and Mrs.
Tokay
go into the chamber opposite to that in which are
Tokay
and
Dimity.]
SCENE VII.
Mr. VERMILION, and Mrs. DIMITY
on the stage,
TOK.
and
DIM.
concealed on one hand, and Mrs.
VER.
and Mrs.
TOK.
on the other.
Ah! my charming Mrs. Dimity.
Ah! Mr. Vermilion.
Don't you understand me?
Alas!
What the devil are they going to say to one another?
We are alone.
Well!
Permit me then, heavenly creature, to seize this opportunity,
(attempting to kiss her)
This is pretty plain, I think, neighbour Dimity.
Dim.
Pray be quiet.
Cease then the fire of those bewitching eyes, those smiles, those lips like roses, that voluptuous carnation in your cheeks, where comely health resides; deprive yourself of these which feed the fire of my tender love.
Flattering creature!
Poor Master Dimity!
Heavens! how beautiful she looks!—Come, charming creature, let us not lose this favourable moment—Believe me, never was love so ardent, or so faithful as mine,—you answer nothing,—you must not deny me.
Dear me you are so pressing—I am all in a flurry—I must take a walk in the garden to recover myself.
Do, my Angel,—I'll conduct you to a delicious retreat, where the soft zephyr alone shall be witness to our love.
You agreeable devil, you!
What do you think of this? He is not tired now?
[Mr.
Ver.
and Mrs.
Dim
go into the chamber, where are Mrs.
Ver.
and Mrs.
Tokay.
SCENE VIII.
TOKAY
and
DIMITY
on the Stage.
They are gone out, let me pass you.
Poor neighbour Dimity!
I'll snip the scoundrel's nose off;
(following them)
they have locked the door.
Ha! ha! this brings to my mind an old song, that I sometimes give 'em at a meeting of the livery, I'll sing it you, neighbour.
AIR.
Curtis was old Hodge's wife,
For vartue none was ever such;
She led so pure and chaste a life,
Hodge said 'twas vartue over much:
For, says sly old Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least, d'ye see.
Omitted in the representation.
II.
'Curtis said if men were rude,
'She'd scratch their eyes out, tear their hair;
'Says Hodge, I b'lieve thou'rt wond'rous good,
'However let us nothing swear;
'For says fly old Hodge, says he,
'Great talkers do the least, d'ye see.
III.
One night she dreamt a druken fool,
Be rude, in spight of her, would fain,
She makes no more, but with joint stool,
Falls on her husband might and main;
Still says sly old Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least, d'ye see.
IV.
By that time she had broke his nose,
Hodge made a shift to 'wake his wife,
Oh! Hodge, says she, judge by these blows,
I prize my vartue as my life:
Still says sly old Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least, d'ye see.
V.
I dreamt a rude man on me fell,
However I his project marr'd;
Dear wife, says Hodge, 'tis mighty well,
But next time don't hit quite so hard:
For, says sly old Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least d'ye see.
I could not have believed it—my wife, who I thought the pattern card of virtue!
Women are frail, neighbour! women are frail!
Mr. Alderman, you have the advantage, but if it had been your's—
Mine! No, no, Mr. Dimity, Mrs. Tokay is perhaps the most discreet matron in all the ward of Portsoken—But, come, bear your disgrace like a man—let us see—Zounds, I'll seize some of these cakes, if 'tis only to fortify the stomach—And—stay—there is nothing to drink—If the wine was but come, I'd drink the lady and gentleman in the garden.
'Tis cruel in you, Alderman, to rip up the subject in this manner.
Hush! I hear them, let us retire.
Well, I'll sew up my mouth for a little while—However, I'll trim them yet, before I put the work out of hand.—
[They go back to their hiding place.]
SCENE IX.
Mr. VERMILION, and Mrs. DIMITY,
and afterwards
Mrs. VERMILION
and
Mrs. TOKAY.
Dear me! what shall I do?
Don't cry; believe me, my respect and caution shall ever equal my love.
If my husband should know it—
How can he know it?—No, believe me, he'll carry his honours as contentedly as the best.
My honours! there's a scoundrel for you.
And will you be always constant?
For ever, my angel—Hush! here's my wife, and Mrs. Tokay.
So, have you well employed your time since we have been gone?
If to be wise, is to profit of each moment, we have well employed our time, I assure you.
Yes, yes, that we can witness for them.
Here's the wine.
Come, ladies, take your places.
I fancy we shall be here some time. Come, neighbour Dimity, eat some of this cake.
No, I thank you, Mr. Alderman—I have no appetite.
Come, Mrs. Tokay, take care of yourself—my dear Mrs. Dimity, what makes you so serious?—Here's Mr. Dimity's health; he is a man I like; clever, sensible, well furnished, here.—
[Pointing to his forehead.]
Did you ever hear such a villain!
Ladies, let us drink round, and then suppose we sing a little catch to put us in spirits.
With all my heart; what shall it be?
The Wives Revenged.
Ha! ha! ha!
CATCH.
When husbands from their duty stray,
Their wives should be reveng'd, some way:
Courage then, dames, nor moap at home,
What! sit and cry, and let them roam.
Your honour's wounded—rouse—defend it,
And, cuckold them—or else pretend it.
Charming!—ravishing!—my dear Mrs. Dimity, and you, beautiful Mrs. Tokay—how you enchant me—but how's this, wife?—but one bottle?—Heavens! you should have brought half a dozen at least; at such a delightful feast ought any thing to be spared?
Half a dozen!—what the devil are we to stay all night here?
Come, come, one more journey—I am sorry to trouble you, and I confess 'tis not very polite, but I am dead, and can't stir a step.
Oh! the impostor!
Come, ladies, which of you will accompany me?
Mrs. Tokay loves walking.
There, there, she wants to stay with him again—the vixen!
No, Ma'am! you shall have your turn as well as me.
Hang my buttons now if—
With all my heart.—Come, Mrs. Vermilion.
SCENE X.
VER.
and Mrs.
TOK.
on the stage,
TOK.
and
DIM.
concealed on one side, and Mrs.
VER.
and Mrs.
TOK.
on the other.
Are you not ashamed, Sir, to look me in the face?
Why, Madam?
Why, Sir?—Do you think if your wife was insensible to your behaviour, it would pass upon me?—No, Sir, not one leer, nor whisper escaped me.
Ha! ha! ha! jealous, by all that's charming.
Jealous!—no, Sir, my love is not alarmed, 'tis my pride that's hurt—Mrs. Dimity, indeed! I'll Mrs. Dimity her; to leave me for such a Gill-slirt,
Why, Alderman, how's this?
Why, really, I don't know.
You know, the first time I was weak enough to listen to you, was at my Lord Mayor's ball—You danced, you enchanted me, and while my dear good Mr. Tokay was getting himself into a state of intoxication, with his own champaign, you looked, and persuaded, and swore yourself into my affections—and now—I could cry my eyes out.
Come, come, no more of this—you are as dear to me as ever. Let us not then lose the moments in frivolous conversation—rather let me lead you where silence and the night shall hide those raptures—
Heavens! you were born to persuade me—And don't you love that creature at all?
How can you do yourself the injustice to think so? I was piqued at your late coolness, and so put on all this to try if your affection was as strong as ever.
Is it possible?
You know it is—Come, lose no time!
[They go off to Mrs.
Ver.
and Mrs.
Tokay.
SCENE XI.
TOKAY
and
DIMIT
on the Stage.
Zounds! I'm struck as dumb as an oister.
Why, Alderman! I thought your wife was the most discreet matron of all the ward of Portsoken.
A dauber of canvas to make a cuckold of an Alderman!
Come, come, 'tis some comfort that you are not out of work any more than me.
A damn'd plaisterer of train oil, and yellow oker!
Stay, have I never a snip of a song now that will suit you?
AIR.
Master Jenkins smoked his pipe,
And swore he'd ne'er be married,
But 'gainst each husband threw some wipe,
Or dry-jest drolly carried.
Master Jenkins thought a wife
The greatest mortal evil,
And swore, to lead a husband's life,
Must be the very devil.
II.
Master Jenkins smoked his pipe,
At home, content, and married;
Regardless of cach sneer or wipe,
Or dry-jest drolly carried:
Master Jenkins swore, a wife
Was not so great an evil;
And any but a husband's life,
Was now the very devil.
III.
Master Jenkins smoked his pipe,
And had been some months married,
Severely now he felt each wipe,
For horns the poor man carried:
Master Jenkins curs'd his wife,
And swore of such an evil
To get well quit, he'd part with life,
Or send her to the devil.
But women are frail, neighbour!—Women are frail!—Come, Alderman, will you eat any of this cake?—
(drinks)
Here's the Lady and Gentleman in in the garden—but, zounds, I hear them, let us retire—
(both retire)
SCENE XII.
VERMILION
and
Mrs. TOKAY,
and afterwards
Mrs. VERMILION
and
Mrs. DIMITY.
Heavens! I am undone!—ruin'd!
I tell you, my love, they did not see us.
You are mistaken, and that malicious Mrs. Dimity—
Hush! they are here.
Your servant, Madam, I must give up my place to you, I find.
Yes, Madam, you did not slide out of the little summer-house so cunningly, but that we saw you.
What do you mean, Ladies?
I can't conceive what they would be at—This Lady has never stirred from hence, I assure you, all the time you have been gone.
All this is mighty well, Sir, but we part to-morrow.
Yes, indeed! I wonder how she has the impudence to look Mrs. Vermilion in the face!
Well, Ladies, since you are determin'd upon quarrelling, you had better wish one another good night. If you'll give me leave, I'll see you home.
No, I won't be seen in her Company.
Madam, whatever your delicacy may be injur'd at, as it is dark, you had better, I think, take this opportunity of guarding yourself from danger.
Well, for the matter of that, since no one will see us together—good night to you, my dear Mrs. Vermilion—I am sure I pity you.
[Mr.
Vermilion,
Mrs.
Tokay,
and Mrs.
Dimity,
retire to the chamber.
SCENE XIII.
Mrs. VERMILION, TOKAY,
and
DIMITY
on the Stage.
Dear Ma'am! revenge yourself.
(on his knees)
Do, Ma'am,
(on his knees)
my devil of a wife, for all her demure looks, has tore a hole in my coat, as large as that in the Alderman's.
Upon my knees I entreat of you.
And so do I upon mine—'tis the only way to repair the rent in your reputation.
SCENE THE LAST.
All the
CHARACTERS.
Ha! ha! ha!
How! this my dearee?
What do I see, the Alderman!
Yes, Ma'am, but not so contented as you may imagine.
And for me, Ma'am, I shall not quietly wear my honours, whatever that gentleman may think of the matter.
I don't understand you.
What, you know nothing of the summer house?
No, I warrant them, pretty creatures, nor of the garden, the jealousy, the carnation in the cheeks, the intoxication, the zephyr, and the Lord Mayor's ball.
Hark ye, Mr. Alderman Tokay, and Mr. Deputy Dimity, never go a poaching again on other peoples grounds, for fear they, in your absence, should take it in their heads to beat up the game about your's.
Come, 'tis I who must explain all this—You have both had the arrogance to make love to me; and the summer house, your coming here to supper, and, in short, all that has passed, was only a laugh at your expence, and you may thank your stars you are no worse off.
Neighbour Dimity, we cut a good figure here.
Yes, for if this is the case, all our work's returned upon our hands.
Come, come, the best thing you can do, is to beg pardon of your wives, to whom I'll be an advocate for you.
To shew you what good creatures we are, they have their pardon, even before they ask it.
Generously done—and now let us sit down, and forget all animosities over a bottle of the Alderman's Tokay.
AIR.
'Twixt husband and wife, there's an end of all quarrels,
The battle is fought, and the victory is ours;
The wives have the day, and a forest of laurels,
Like Cap's alamode, on our temples now towers.
Yet tho' we return from the field so victorious,
Where courage resides—always pity should live,
And warriors to still make their conquests more glorious,
The enemy vanquish'd, forget and give.
Henceforth I return to my former obedience,
Which, alone, in a wife, real kindness secures;
I acknowledge, and take on't the oaths of allegiance,
You'll reign King of my heart, while I'm Queen of your's.
Many wives tho' had paid you in kind, thus induced to't.
Taking care, every hour, a fine life you should live;
With bick'ring and taunts—but 'tis o'er, and a truce to't,
What ever is past, I'll forget and forgive.
And now, if so far, you have heard us thus hector,
'Twas only, believe me, that each play'd her part▪
For our fear, lest the critics should read us a lecture,
Is a certain conviction we're women at heart.
Tho' our husbands we've tam'd, for the Piece we've our terrors,
Let what merits you find, in your memory live,
Nay, let kindness augment them—but as for our errors▪
We humbly intreat you, forget and forgive.
THE END.