oke, and her Anchor lost,
Deserted and all forlorn.
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night,
That _Polly_ lies sporting on Seas of Delight!
Revenge, Revenge, Revenge,
Shall appease my restless Spirit.

I have the Rats-bane ready. --I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death
upon the Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be
call'd in question. --But say, I were to be hang'd. --I never could be
hang'd for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the
poisoning that Slut.

Enter _Filch_.

_Filch._ Madam, here's Miss _Polly_ come to wait upon you.

_Lucy._ Show her in.

Enter _Polly_.

Dear Madam, your Servant. --I hope you will pardon my Passion, when I
was so happy to see you last. --I was so over-run with the Spleen, that
I was perfectly out of myself. And really when one hath the Spleen,
every thing is to be excus'd by a Friend.

AIR XLVII. Now _Roger_, I'll tell thee because thou 'rt my Son.

[Music]

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?

_Polly._ Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Head-ache-- I hope, Madam,
you will excuse me.

_Lucy._ Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her
Closet, for her own private drinking. --You seem mighty low in Spirits,
my Dear.

_Polly._ I am sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of
your Offer. --I should not have left you in the rude manner I did when
we met last, Madam, had not my Papa haul'd me away so unexpectedly--
I was indeed somewhat provok'd, and perhaps might use some Expressions
that were disrespectful. --But really, Madam, the Captain treated me
with so much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv'd your Pity, rather
than your Resentment.

_Lucy._ But since his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.
--Ah _Polly_! _Polly_! 'tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as
if you were only his Mistress.

_Polly._ Sure, Madam, you cannot thi