When a Wife’s in her Pout,
(As she’s sometimes, no doubt;)
The good Husband as meek as a Lamb,
Her Vapours to still,
First grants her her Will,
And the quieting Draught is a Dram. Poor Man!
And the quieting Draught is a Dram.
—I wish all our Quarrels might have so comfortable a Reconciliation.
Polly. I have no Excuse for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my Misfortunes.—And really, Madam, I suffer too upon your Account.
Lucy. But, Miss Polly—in the way of Friendship, will you give me leave to propose a Glass of Cordial to you?