The flatt'rer is not gone; She visits number one: In love I'm monstrous deep. Hope told a flattering tale, Lest love should soon grow cool; To make the fish a fool: Then love's gone out of town; And when love's dream is o'er, Then we wake and dream no more. (Exit.) (The KING evinces strong emotions during the song, and at the conclusion starts up.) Fusbos. What ails my liege? Ah, why that look so sad? King (coming forward). I am in love! I scorch, I freeze, I'm mad! Oh, tell me, Fusbos, first and best of friends, Shall I my Griskinissa's charms forego, And place the rosy Distaffina there? In such a case, what course can I pursue? I love my queen, and Distaffina too. Fusbos. And would a king his general supplant? I can't advise, upon my soul I can't. King. So when two feasts, whereat there's nought to pay, Fall unpropitious on the self-same day, The anxious Cit each invitation views, And ponders which to take or which refuse; From this or that to keep away is loth, And sighs to think he cannot dine at both. (Exit.) Fusbos. So when some schoolboy, on a rainy day, Finds all his playmates will no longer stay, (Exit.) He takes the hint himself—and walks away. SCENE II. An Avenue of Trees. Enter the KING. King. I'll seek the maid I love, though in my way A dozen gen'rals stood in fierce array! Such rosy beauties nature meant for kings; SCENE III. Inside of a Cottage. Enter DISTAffina. Distaf. This morn, as sleeping in my bed I lay, And soon the pots and pans were turned to gold! Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash; But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash, Enter the KING. 'And pray, sir, who are you, I'd wish to know? And here have come to offer half a crown. Distaf. Oh, sir, that makes it quite another thing. King. And think not, maiden, I could e'er design 'A sum so trifling for such charms as thine. No; the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red, King (puts his hat down to kneel on). Here, on my knees those knees which ne'er till now To man or maid in suppliance bent-I vow Distaf. (kneels). And thus I swear, as I bestow my hand, As long as e'er the Monument shall stand, So long I'm yours King. Are then my wishes crown'd? Distaf. La, sir! I'd not say no for twenty pound. Let silly maids for love their favours yield, Rich ones for me—a king against the field. SONG "Paddy's Wedding." Queen Dido at Her palace gate Sat darning of her stocking Oh; She sung and drew The worsted through, Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking Oh By a soldier lad, Though hist'ry passes it over Oh): “You tell-tale brat, I've been a flat, Your daddy has proved a rover Oh. To be cozen'd by 'A fellow without a penny Oh; When rich ones came, And ask'd the same, For I'd offers from never so many Oh; Look out for beaux, 'And quickly get a new lover Oh." Then come, lads, come, Love beats the drum, 'And a fig for Æneas the rover Oh! King. So Orpheus sang of old, or poets lie, And as the brutes were charmed, e'en so am I. Rosy-cheek'd maid, henceforth my only queen, Full soon shalt thou in royal robes be seen; And through my realm I'll issue this decree, None shall appear of taller growth than thee; Painters no other face portray; each sign O'er alehouse hung shall change its head for thine; Poets shall cancel their unpublish'd lays, And none presume to write but in thy praise. Distaf. (fetches a bottle and glass). And may I then, without offending, crave My love to taste of this, the best I have? King. Were it the vilest liquor upon earth, Thy touch would render it of matchless worth; Dear shall the gift be held that comes from you; Best proof of love (drinks), 'tis full-proof Hodges' too; Through all my veins I feel a genial glow; Bombastes (within). Ho, Distaffina, ho! Oh yes, 'tis what's-his-name, King. And is it he? and doth he hither come? Distaf. Why, sure you're not alarm'd at such a thing? He's but a general, and you're a king. (KING conceals himself in a closet.). Enter BOMBASTES. Bombas. Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow, By all the risks my fearless heart hath run, Distaf. (Sees the hat,) Suppose it is, why, what of that? A hat can do no harm without a head! Bombas. Whoe'er it fits, this hour I doom him dead; Alive from hence the caitiff shall not stir (Discovers the KING.) Your most obedient, humble servant, sir. |