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I little thought you'd still be able
"Hold!" says the farmer, "not so fast!
"Perhaps,” says Dodson, "so it might, But latterly I've lost my sight." "This is a shocking tale, 'tis true; But still there's comfort left for you: Each strives your sadness to amuse; I warrant you hear all the news." "There's none," cries he; " and if there were,
I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear."
"Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined,
These are unjustifiable yearnings;
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,
You've had your three sufficient warnings;
So come along; no more we'll part,"
He said, and touched him with his dart.
ARTAXOMINOUS, King of Uto- ARMY: A long Drummer, a pia.
FUSBOS, Minister of State.
short Fifer, and two (some-
W. B. Rhodes
SCENE I. Interior of the Palace.
The KING in his chair of state. A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, etc. ATTENDANTS on each side.
Ist Atten. What will your Majesty please to wear? Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown. 2d Atten. D'ye choose to look at the bill of fare? (Showing long bill.)
Get out of my sight, or I'll knock you down. Here is soup, fish, or goose, or duck, or fowl, or pigeons, pig, or hare!
1st Atten. Or blue, or green, or red, or black, or white, or brown.
What will your Majesty, etc.
Get out of my sight, etc. (Exeunt ATTENDANTS.)
Enter FUSBOS, and kneels to the KING.
Fusbos. Hail, Artaxominous, yclep'd the Great!
King. Rise, learned Fusbos-rise, my friend, and know We are but middling—that is, so, so!
Fusbos. Only so, so! Oh, monstrous, doleful thing!
Is it the mulligrubs affects the king?
Or, dropping poisons in the cup of joy,
Do the blue devils your repose annoy?
King. Nor mulligrubs nor devils blue are here, But yet we feel ourselves a little queer.
Fusbos. Yes, I perceive it in that vacant eye, The vest unbutton'd, and the wig awry;
So sickly cats neglect their fur-attire,
King. Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs,
And.drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again!
Until at length we got a drop too much.
Fusbos. So when some donkey on the Blackheath Road,
Falls, overpower'd, beneath his sandy load;
King. The sapient Doctor Muggins came in haste,
Who suits his physic to his patient's taste;
He, knowing well on what our heart is set,
Hath just prescrib'd, "To take a morning whet";
The very sight each sick'ning pain subdues.
Fusbos (sits). Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless force
King. Does he, by Jingo? Then we'll drink his health! (Drum and fife.) Fusbos. But hark! With loud acclaim, the fife and drum Announce your army near; behold, they come !
Enter BOMBASTES, attended by one DRUMMER, one FIFER, and two SOLDIERS, all very materially differing in size. They march round the stage and back.
Bombas. Meet me this ev'ning at the Barley Mow; I'll bring your pay-you see I'm busy now.
Begone, brave army, and don't kick up a row.
(Exeunt SOLDIERS.) (To the KING.) Thrash'd are your foes. This watch and silken string,
Worn by their chief, I as a trophy bring;
I knock'd him down, then snatch'd it from his fob.
Watch! watch!" he cried, when I had done the job.
(BOMBASTES kneels; the KING dubs him with a pipe, and
From our own bowl here drink, my soldier true;
And if you'd like to take a whiff or two,
He whose brave arm hath made our foes to crouch,
Bombas (arises). Honours so great have all my toils repaid,
My liege, and Fusbos, here's "Success to trade."
Fusbos. Well said, Bombastes! Since thy mighty blows Have given a quietus to our foes,
Now shall our farmers gather in their crops,
And busy tradesmen mind their crowded shops.
The deadly havoc of war's hatchet cease;
Now shall we smoke the calumet of peace.
King. I shall smoke short-cut; you smoke what you please. Bombas. Whate'er your Majesty shall deign to name, Short cut or long to me is all the same.
Bombas and Fusbos. In short, so long as we your favours
Short cut or long, to us is all the same.
King. Thanks, gen'rous friends! Now list whilst I impart How firm you're lock'd and bolted in my heart;
So long as this here pouch a pipe contains,
Or a full glass in that there bowl remains,
(Advances and attempts to sing.) Fusbos, give place;
You know you haven't got a singing face;
SONG "Hope Told a Flattering Tale."
Hope told a flattering tale,
Much longer than my arm,