Just. ’Tis false, you dog! you are not my son-in-law; for I’ll be poison’d again, and you shall be hanged.—I’ll die, sirrah, and leave Bridget my estate.

Mrs. Bri. Ay, pray do, my dear, leave me your estate; I’m sure he deserves to be hanged.

Just. He does, you say!—Hark’ee, Bridget, you showed such a tender concern for me when you thought me poisoned, that, for the future, I am resolved never to take your advice again in anything.—[To Lieutenant O’Connor.] So, do you hear, sir, you are an Irishman and a soldier, ain’t you?

O’Con. I am sir, and proud of both.

Just. The two things on earth I most hate; so I tell you what—renounce your country and sell your commission, and I’ll forgive you.

O’Con. Hark’ee, Mr. Justice—if you were not the father of my Lauretta, I would pull your nose for asking the first, and break your bones for desiring the second.

Rosy. Ay, ay, you’re right.

Just. Is he? then I’m sure I must be wrong.—Here, sir, I give my daughter to you, who are the most impudent dog I ever saw in my life.

O’Con. Oh, sir, say what you please; with such a gift as Lauretta, every word is a compliment.

Mrs. Bri. Well, my lovee, I think this will be a good subject for us to quarrel about the rest of our lives.

Just. Why, truly, my dear, I think so, though we are seldom at a loss for that.

Rosy This is all as it should be.—My Alexander, I give you joy, and you, my little god-daughter; and now my sincere wish is, that you may make just such a wife as my poor dear Dolly.

[Exeunt omnes.