Dorothy and Lydia test the fidelity of their two admirers. The men have repented of their temporary infatuations of the previous night and have sent letters to Dorothy and Lydia affirming that they remain devoted to Dorcas and Abigail. By return the men receive challenges to duels, ostensibly from two young gentlemen outraged at their conduct to the two young ladies, but in fact written by Dorothy and Lydia. The young women turn up disguised as men at the appointed site for the duel. They are pleased that Wilder and Sherwood are so dedicated to "Dorcas" and "Abigail" that they will risk their lives in a duel for the sake of their devotion. On the other hand, the ladies are anxious that the duels should not go ahead. Squire Bantam arrives, having learned of the burglary plot from Lurcher. He will forgive his errant nephew if he will consent to marry Dorothy. The ladies overlook the men's temporary wavering of the night before, and the couples are married. No. 16a became a successful ballad standard, "Queen of My Heart." The press praised the music and the original production but had mixed reactions to the performances; they disliked the libretto. "The Pall Mall Gazette" said, "The story is curiously devoid of any interest, the dialogue is of the weakest, the lyrics have no point... Mr Cellier's music is worthy a better fate." Other papers agreed: "To put it plainly, the libretto is not worthy of the music." "Punch" wrote, "The music is much better than the plot – not that this is saying much... I fancy that Herr Meyer Lutz must have received instructions not to indulge in any of his old frivolous ways, but to conduct the music gravely and sedately – which he did. I was wondering whether he was awake all the time." Many of the critics complained that the libretto was derivative, primarily of "She Stoops to Conquer." Bernard Shaw, seeing the piece well into its long run, wrote of his pity for the cast: "Here are several young persons doomed to spend the flower of their years in mechanically repeating the silliest libretto in modern theatrical literature, set to music which, pretty as it is, must pall somewhat on the seven hundred and eighty-eighth performance... I did not wait for the third act. My companion had all but fallen into the pit from sleep and heaviness of spirit combined... It is a criminal waste of young lives and young talents."