The flatt'rer is not gone; A tub thrown to a whale, To make the fish a fool: Then love's gone out of town; 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, 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; And sighs to think he cannot dine at both. SCENE II. An Avenue of Trees. Enter the KING. King. I'll seek the maid I love, though in my way (Exit.) (Exit.) SCENE III. Inside of a Cottage. Enter DISTAFFINA. Distaf. This morn, as sleeping in my bed I lay, I dreamt-and morning dreams come true, they say I dreamt a cunning man my fortune told, And soon the pots and pans were turned to gold! But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash, Enter the KIng. And pray, sir, who are you, I'd wish to know? King. Perfection's self, oh, smooth that angry brow! For love of thee, I've wander'd thro' the town, · And here have come to offer half a crown. Distaf. Fellow! your paltry offer I despise; The great Bombastes' love alone I prize. King. He's but a general. Damsel, I'm a king. 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, Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed. Distaf. (aside). My dream is out, and I shall soon behold The pots and pans all turn to shining gold. 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 Still to remain, till you my hopes fulfil, Fixt as the Monument on Fish Street Hill. 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. SONG "Paddy's Wedding." Her palace gate Sat darning of her stocking Oh; She sung and drew The worsted through, Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking Oh (For a babe she had 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. 'A fellow without a penny Oh; When rich ones came, For I'd offers from never so many Oh; But I'll darn my hose, 'And quickly get a new lover Oh." Then come, lads, come, 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! Distaf. Oh yes, 'tis what's-his-name, The General. Send him packing as he came. King. And is it he? and doth he hither come? Ah, me! my guilty conscience strikes me dumb. Where shall I go? say, whither shall I fly? Hide me, oh, hide me from his injur'd eye! 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, Distaf. Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat. Distaf. Suppose it is, why, what of that? A hat can do no harm without a head! (Sees the hat,) 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. |