Bombastes Furioso.

[Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing, by degrees, to obtain a superiority in the contest.

[Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing, by degrees, to obtain a superiority in the contest.

[Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing, by degrees, to obtain a superiority in the contest.

[Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the Fem. Min. appearing, by degrees, to obtain a superiority in the contest.

Act the Third contains theeclaircissementsand final arrangement between Casimere, Matilda, and Cecilia: which so nearly resemble the concluding act of "Stella," that we forbear to lay it before our readers.

Scene—The Inn door—Diligence drawn up.Casimereappears superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving directions to the Porters.EnterBeefingtonandPuddingfield.Pudd.Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places?Coach.Yes, your honour.Pudd.[seems to be struck withCasimere'sappearance. He surveys him earnestly, without paying any attention to the coachman, then doubtingly pronounces]Casimere!Cas.[turning round rapidly, recognisesPuddingfield,and embraces him.]My Puddingfield!Pudd.My Casimere!Cas.What, Beefington too![discovering him.]Then is my joy complete.Beef.Our fellow-traveller, as it seems.Cas.Yes, Beefington—but wherefore to Hamburgh?Beef.Oh, Casimere[211]—to fly—to fly—to return—England—our country—Magna Charta—it is liberated—a new era—House of Commons—Crown and Anchor—Opposition——Cas.What a contrast! you are flying to liberty and your home—I, driven from my home by tyranny—am exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign country.Beef.How domestic slavery?Cas.Too true—two wives[slowly, and with a dejected air—then after a pause]—you knew my Cecilia?Pudd.Yes, five years ago.Cas.Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in Wetteravia—my Matilda was under her protection—alighting at a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread-and-butter for the children, in a light-blue riding habit. The simplicity of her appearance—the fineness of the weather—all conspired to interest me—my heart moved to hers—as if bya magnetic sympathy—we wept, embraced, and went home together—she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience—her Rogero is languishing in captivity—if I could restore her tohim!Beef.Let us rescue him.Cas.Will without power[212]is like children playing at soldiers.Beef.Courage without power[213]is like a consumptive running footman.Cas.Courage without power is a contradiction.[214]Ten brave men might set all Quedlinburgh at defiance.Beef.Ten brave men—but where are they to be found?Cas.I will tell you—marked you the waiter?Beef.The waiter?[Doubtingly.Cas.[in a confidential tone.]No waiter, but a Knight Templar. Returning from the crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and his person proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced the profession of a waiter. I have made sure of him already. There are, besides, an Austrian and a Prussian grenadier. I have made them abjure their national enmity, and they have sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of freedom. These, with Young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make seven—the troubadour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete the ten.Beef.Now then for the execution.[With enthusiasm.Pudd.Yes, my boys—for the execution.[Clapping them on the back.Waiter.But hist! we are observed.Trou.Let us by a song conceal our purposes.

Scene—The Inn door—Diligence drawn up.Casimereappears superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving directions to the Porters.EnterBeefingtonandPuddingfield.Pudd.Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places?Coach.Yes, your honour.Pudd.[seems to be struck withCasimere'sappearance. He surveys him earnestly, without paying any attention to the coachman, then doubtingly pronounces]Casimere!Cas.[turning round rapidly, recognisesPuddingfield,and embraces him.]My Puddingfield!Pudd.My Casimere!Cas.What, Beefington too![discovering him.]Then is my joy complete.Beef.Our fellow-traveller, as it seems.Cas.Yes, Beefington—but wherefore to Hamburgh?Beef.Oh, Casimere[211]—to fly—to fly—to return—England—our country—Magna Charta—it is liberated—a new era—House of Commons—Crown and Anchor—Opposition——Cas.What a contrast! you are flying to liberty and your home—I, driven from my home by tyranny—am exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign country.Beef.How domestic slavery?Cas.Too true—two wives[slowly, and with a dejected air—then after a pause]—you knew my Cecilia?Pudd.Yes, five years ago.Cas.Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in Wetteravia—my Matilda was under her protection—alighting at a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread-and-butter for the children, in a light-blue riding habit. The simplicity of her appearance—the fineness of the weather—all conspired to interest me—my heart moved to hers—as if bya magnetic sympathy—we wept, embraced, and went home together—she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience—her Rogero is languishing in captivity—if I could restore her tohim!Beef.Let us rescue him.Cas.Will without power[212]is like children playing at soldiers.Beef.Courage without power[213]is like a consumptive running footman.Cas.Courage without power is a contradiction.[214]Ten brave men might set all Quedlinburgh at defiance.Beef.Ten brave men—but where are they to be found?Cas.I will tell you—marked you the waiter?Beef.The waiter?[Doubtingly.Cas.[in a confidential tone.]No waiter, but a Knight Templar. Returning from the crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and his person proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced the profession of a waiter. I have made sure of him already. There are, besides, an Austrian and a Prussian grenadier. I have made them abjure their national enmity, and they have sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of freedom. These, with Young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make seven—the troubadour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete the ten.Beef.Now then for the execution.[With enthusiasm.Pudd.Yes, my boys—for the execution.[Clapping them on the back.Waiter.But hist! we are observed.Trou.Let us by a song conceal our purposes.

Scene—The Inn door—Diligence drawn up.Casimereappears superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving directions to the Porters.

EnterBeefingtonandPuddingfield.

Pudd.Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places?

Coach.Yes, your honour.

Pudd.[seems to be struck withCasimere'sappearance. He surveys him earnestly, without paying any attention to the coachman, then doubtingly pronounces]Casimere!

Cas.[turning round rapidly, recognisesPuddingfield,and embraces him.]My Puddingfield!

Pudd.My Casimere!

Cas.What, Beefington too![discovering him.]Then is my joy complete.

Beef.Our fellow-traveller, as it seems.

Cas.Yes, Beefington—but wherefore to Hamburgh?

Beef.Oh, Casimere[211]—to fly—to fly—to return—England—our country—Magna Charta—it is liberated—a new era—House of Commons—Crown and Anchor—Opposition——

Cas.What a contrast! you are flying to liberty and your home—I, driven from my home by tyranny—am exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign country.

Beef.How domestic slavery?

Cas.Too true—two wives[slowly, and with a dejected air—then after a pause]—you knew my Cecilia?

Pudd.Yes, five years ago.

Cas.Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in Wetteravia—my Matilda was under her protection—alighting at a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread-and-butter for the children, in a light-blue riding habit. The simplicity of her appearance—the fineness of the weather—all conspired to interest me—my heart moved to hers—as if bya magnetic sympathy—we wept, embraced, and went home together—she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience—her Rogero is languishing in captivity—if I could restore her tohim!

Beef.Let us rescue him.

Cas.Will without power[212]is like children playing at soldiers.

Beef.Courage without power[213]is like a consumptive running footman.

Cas.Courage without power is a contradiction.[214]Ten brave men might set all Quedlinburgh at defiance.

Beef.Ten brave men—but where are they to be found?

Cas.I will tell you—marked you the waiter?

Beef.The waiter?[Doubtingly.

Cas.[in a confidential tone.]No waiter, but a Knight Templar. Returning from the crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and his person proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced the profession of a waiter. I have made sure of him already. There are, besides, an Austrian and a Prussian grenadier. I have made them abjure their national enmity, and they have sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of freedom. These, with Young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make seven—the troubadour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete the ten.

Beef.Now then for the execution.[With enthusiasm.

Pudd.Yes, my boys—for the execution.[Clapping them on the back.

Waiter.But hist! we are observed.

Trou.Let us by a song conceal our purposes.

RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.[215]

Cas.Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blowFrom Night's cold lungs, our purpose know!Pudd.Let Silence, mother of the dumb,Beef.Press on each lip her palsied thumb!Wait.Let privacy, allied to sin,That loves to haunt the tranquil inn—Gren.} And Conscience start, when she shall view,Trou.} The mighty deed we mean to do!

Cas.Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blowFrom Night's cold lungs, our purpose know!Pudd.Let Silence, mother of the dumb,Beef.Press on each lip her palsied thumb!Wait.Let privacy, allied to sin,That loves to haunt the tranquil inn—Gren.} And Conscience start, when she shall view,Trou.} The mighty deed we mean to do!

Cas.Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blowFrom Night's cold lungs, our purpose know!

Cas.Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blow

From Night's cold lungs, our purpose know!

Pudd.Let Silence, mother of the dumb,

Pudd.Let Silence, mother of the dumb,

Beef.Press on each lip her palsied thumb!

Beef.Press on each lip her palsied thumb!

Wait.Let privacy, allied to sin,That loves to haunt the tranquil inn—

Wait.Let privacy, allied to sin,

That loves to haunt the tranquil inn—

Gren.} And Conscience start, when she shall view,Trou.} The mighty deed we mean to do!

Gren.} And Conscience start, when she shall view,

Trou.} The mighty deed we mean to do!

GENERAL CHORUS—Con spirito.

Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands,Swear to save a shackled hero!See where yon Abbey frowning stands!Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero!Cas.Thrall'd in a Monkish tyrant's fetters,Shall great Rogero hopeless lie?Y. Pot.In my pocket I have letters,Saying, "help me, or I die!"Allegro Allegretto.Cas. Beef. Pudd. Gren. Trou.}Let us fly, let us fly,Waiter, and Pot. with enthusiasm} Let us help, ere he die![Exeunt omnes, waving their hats.

Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands,Swear to save a shackled hero!See where yon Abbey frowning stands!Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero!Cas.Thrall'd in a Monkish tyrant's fetters,Shall great Rogero hopeless lie?Y. Pot.In my pocket I have letters,Saying, "help me, or I die!"Allegro Allegretto.Cas. Beef. Pudd. Gren. Trou.}Let us fly, let us fly,Waiter, and Pot. with enthusiasm} Let us help, ere he die![Exeunt omnes, waving their hats.

Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands,Swear to save a shackled hero!See where yon Abbey frowning stands!Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero!

Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands,

Swear to save a shackled hero!

See where yon Abbey frowning stands!

Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero!

Cas.Thrall'd in a Monkish tyrant's fetters,Shall great Rogero hopeless lie?

Cas.Thrall'd in a Monkish tyrant's fetters,

Shall great Rogero hopeless lie?

Y. Pot.In my pocket I have letters,Saying, "help me, or I die!"

Y. Pot.In my pocket I have letters,

Saying, "help me, or I die!"

Allegro Allegretto.

Allegro Allegretto.

Cas. Beef. Pudd. Gren. Trou.}Let us fly, let us fly,Waiter, and Pot. with enthusiasm} Let us help, ere he die![Exeunt omnes, waving their hats.

Cas. Beef. Pudd. Gren. Trou.}Let us fly, let us fly,

Waiter, and Pot. with enthusiasm} Let us help, ere he die!

[Exeunt omnes, waving their hats.

Scene.—The Abbey gate, with ditches, drawbridges, and spikes. Time—about an hour before sunrise. The conspirators appear as if in ambuscade, whispering, and consulting together, in expectation of the signal for attack. TheWaiteris habited as a Knight Templar, in the dress of his Order, with the cross on his breast, and the scallop on his shoulder;PuddingfieldandBeefingtonarmed with blunderbusses and pocket pistols; the Grenadiers in their proper uniforms. The Troubadour, with his attendant Minstrels, bring up the rear—martial music—the conspirators come forward, and present themselves before the gate of the Abbey.—Alarum—firing of pistols—the Convent appear in arms upon the walls—the drawbridge is let down—a body of choristers and lay-brothers attempt a sally, but are beaten back, and the verger killed. The besieged attempt to raise the drawbridge—PuddingfieldandBeefingtonpress forward with alacrity, throw themselves upon the drawbridge, and by the exertion of their weight, preserve it in a state of depression—the other besiegers join them, and attempt to force the entrance, but without effect.Puddingfieldmakes the signal for the battering ram. EnterQuintus CurtiusandMarcus Curius Dentatus,in their proper military habits, preceded by the Roman Eagle—the rest of their legion are employed in bringing forward a battering ram, which plays for a few minutes to slow time, till the entrance is forced. After a short resistance, the besiegers rush in with shouts of victory.Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey. The inhabitants of the Convent are seen flying in all directions.TheCount of WeimarandPrior,who had been feasting in the refectory, are brought in manacled. TheCountappears transported with rage, and gnaws his chains. ThePriorremains insensible, as if stupefied with grief.Beefingtontakes the keys of the dungeon, which are hanging at thePrior'sgirdle, and makes a sign for them both to be led away into confinement.—ExeuntPriorandCountproperly guarded. The rest of the conspirators disperse in search of the dungeon whereRogerois confined.

Scene.—The Abbey gate, with ditches, drawbridges, and spikes. Time—about an hour before sunrise. The conspirators appear as if in ambuscade, whispering, and consulting together, in expectation of the signal for attack. TheWaiteris habited as a Knight Templar, in the dress of his Order, with the cross on his breast, and the scallop on his shoulder;PuddingfieldandBeefingtonarmed with blunderbusses and pocket pistols; the Grenadiers in their proper uniforms. The Troubadour, with his attendant Minstrels, bring up the rear—martial music—the conspirators come forward, and present themselves before the gate of the Abbey.—Alarum—firing of pistols—the Convent appear in arms upon the walls—the drawbridge is let down—a body of choristers and lay-brothers attempt a sally, but are beaten back, and the verger killed. The besieged attempt to raise the drawbridge—PuddingfieldandBeefingtonpress forward with alacrity, throw themselves upon the drawbridge, and by the exertion of their weight, preserve it in a state of depression—the other besiegers join them, and attempt to force the entrance, but without effect.Puddingfieldmakes the signal for the battering ram. EnterQuintus CurtiusandMarcus Curius Dentatus,in their proper military habits, preceded by the Roman Eagle—the rest of their legion are employed in bringing forward a battering ram, which plays for a few minutes to slow time, till the entrance is forced. After a short resistance, the besiegers rush in with shouts of victory.Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey. The inhabitants of the Convent are seen flying in all directions.TheCount of WeimarandPrior,who had been feasting in the refectory, are brought in manacled. TheCountappears transported with rage, and gnaws his chains. ThePriorremains insensible, as if stupefied with grief.Beefingtontakes the keys of the dungeon, which are hanging at thePrior'sgirdle, and makes a sign for them both to be led away into confinement.—ExeuntPriorandCountproperly guarded. The rest of the conspirators disperse in search of the dungeon whereRogerois confined.

Scene.—The Abbey gate, with ditches, drawbridges, and spikes. Time—about an hour before sunrise. The conspirators appear as if in ambuscade, whispering, and consulting together, in expectation of the signal for attack. TheWaiteris habited as a Knight Templar, in the dress of his Order, with the cross on his breast, and the scallop on his shoulder;PuddingfieldandBeefingtonarmed with blunderbusses and pocket pistols; the Grenadiers in their proper uniforms. The Troubadour, with his attendant Minstrels, bring up the rear—martial music—the conspirators come forward, and present themselves before the gate of the Abbey.—Alarum—firing of pistols—the Convent appear in arms upon the walls—the drawbridge is let down—a body of choristers and lay-brothers attempt a sally, but are beaten back, and the verger killed. The besieged attempt to raise the drawbridge—PuddingfieldandBeefingtonpress forward with alacrity, throw themselves upon the drawbridge, and by the exertion of their weight, preserve it in a state of depression—the other besiegers join them, and attempt to force the entrance, but without effect.Puddingfieldmakes the signal for the battering ram. EnterQuintus CurtiusandMarcus Curius Dentatus,in their proper military habits, preceded by the Roman Eagle—the rest of their legion are employed in bringing forward a battering ram, which plays for a few minutes to slow time, till the entrance is forced. After a short resistance, the besiegers rush in with shouts of victory.

Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey. The inhabitants of the Convent are seen flying in all directions.

TheCount of WeimarandPrior,who had been feasting in the refectory, are brought in manacled. TheCountappears transported with rage, and gnaws his chains. ThePriorremains insensible, as if stupefied with grief.Beefingtontakes the keys of the dungeon, which are hanging at thePrior'sgirdle, and makes a sign for them both to be led away into confinement.—ExeuntPriorandCountproperly guarded. The rest of the conspirators disperse in search of the dungeon whereRogerois confined.

FIRST PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL HAYMARKET, AUGUST 7, 1810.

——♦——

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Scene I.—Interior of the Palace.

TheKingin his chair of state.—A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, &c.—Attendantson each side.Trio.—"Tekeli."1st Atten.What will your majesty please to wear?Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown?2nd Atten.D'ye choose to look at the bill of fare?[Showing long bill.King.Get out of my sight, or I'll knock you down.2nd Atten.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, &c.King.Get out of my sight, &c.[ExeuntAttendants.EnterFusbos,and kneels to theKing.Fusbos.Hail, Artaxominous! yclep'd the Great!I come, an humble pillar of thy state,Pregnant with news—but ere that news I tell,First let me hope your Majesty is well.King.Rise, learned Fusbos! rise, my friend, and knowWe are but middling—that is,so so!Fusbos.Onlyso 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,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.King.Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs,Moist'ning our clay, and puffing off our cares,Oft the replenish'd goblet did we drain,And drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again!Such was the case, our very actions such,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;The driver's curse unheeded swells the air,Since none can carry more than they can bear.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.Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news.Fusbos[sits.]Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless forceAlone exceeds by far a brewer's horse,Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth!King.Does he, by jingo? then we'll drink his health![Drum and Fife.Fusbos.But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drumAnnounce your army near; behold, they come!EnterBombastes,attended by oneDrummer,oneFifer,and twoSoldiers,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.[ExeuntSoldiers.[To theKing.]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."My watch is gone," says he—says I, "Just so;Stop where you are—watches were made to go."King.For which we make you Duke of Strombelo.[Bombasteskneels; theKingdubs him with a pipe, and then presents the bowl.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,Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch.Bombas.[rises.]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 shopsThe 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.{In short, so long, as we your favours claim,{Short cut or long, to us is all the same.Fusbos.{King.Thanks, gen'rous friends! now list whilst I impartHow 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,To you an equal portion shall belong;This do I swear, and now—let's have a song.Fusbos.My liege shall be obeyed.[Advances and attempts to sing.Bombas.Fusbos, give place,You know you haven't got a singing face;Here nature, smiling, gave the winning grace.Song.—"Hope told a flatt'ring Tale."Hope told a flattering tale,Much longer than my arm,That love and pots of aleIn peace would keep me warm:The flatt'rer is not gone,She visits number one:In love I'm monstrous deep.Love! odsbobs, destroys my sleep,Hope told a flattering tale,Lest love should soon grow cool;A tub thrown to a whale,To make the fish a fool:Should Distaffina frown,Then love's gone out of town;And when love's dream is o'er,Then we wake and dream no more.[Exit.[TheKingevinces 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,You, who have wisdom at your fingers' ends,Shall it be so, or shall it not be so?Shall I my Griskinissa's charms forego,Compel her to give up the regal chair,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 school-boy, on a rainy day,Finds all his playmates will no longer stay,He takes the hint himself—and walks away.[Exit.

TheKingin his chair of state.—A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, &c.—Attendantson each side.Trio.—"Tekeli."1st Atten.What will your majesty please to wear?Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown?2nd Atten.D'ye choose to look at the bill of fare?[Showing long bill.King.Get out of my sight, or I'll knock you down.2nd Atten.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, &c.King.Get out of my sight, &c.[ExeuntAttendants.EnterFusbos,and kneels to theKing.Fusbos.Hail, Artaxominous! yclep'd the Great!I come, an humble pillar of thy state,Pregnant with news—but ere that news I tell,First let me hope your Majesty is well.King.Rise, learned Fusbos! rise, my friend, and knowWe are but middling—that is,so so!Fusbos.Onlyso 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,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.King.Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs,Moist'ning our clay, and puffing off our cares,Oft the replenish'd goblet did we drain,And drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again!Such was the case, our very actions such,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;The driver's curse unheeded swells the air,Since none can carry more than they can bear.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.Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news.Fusbos[sits.]Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless forceAlone exceeds by far a brewer's horse,Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth!King.Does he, by jingo? then we'll drink his health![Drum and Fife.Fusbos.But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drumAnnounce your army near; behold, they come!EnterBombastes,attended by oneDrummer,oneFifer,and twoSoldiers,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.[ExeuntSoldiers.[To theKing.]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."My watch is gone," says he—says I, "Just so;Stop where you are—watches were made to go."King.For which we make you Duke of Strombelo.[Bombasteskneels; theKingdubs him with a pipe, and then presents the bowl.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,Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch.Bombas.[rises.]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 shopsThe 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.{In short, so long, as we your favours claim,{Short cut or long, to us is all the same.Fusbos.{King.Thanks, gen'rous friends! now list whilst I impartHow 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,To you an equal portion shall belong;This do I swear, and now—let's have a song.Fusbos.My liege shall be obeyed.[Advances and attempts to sing.Bombas.Fusbos, give place,You know you haven't got a singing face;Here nature, smiling, gave the winning grace.Song.—"Hope told a flatt'ring Tale."Hope told a flattering tale,Much longer than my arm,That love and pots of aleIn peace would keep me warm:The flatt'rer is not gone,She visits number one:In love I'm monstrous deep.Love! odsbobs, destroys my sleep,Hope told a flattering tale,Lest love should soon grow cool;A tub thrown to a whale,To make the fish a fool:Should Distaffina frown,Then love's gone out of town;And when love's dream is o'er,Then we wake and dream no more.[Exit.[TheKingevinces 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,You, who have wisdom at your fingers' ends,Shall it be so, or shall it not be so?Shall I my Griskinissa's charms forego,Compel her to give up the regal chair,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 school-boy, on a rainy day,Finds all his playmates will no longer stay,He takes the hint himself—and walks away.[Exit.

TheKingin his chair of state.—A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, &c.—Attendantson each side.

TheKingin his chair of state.—A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, &c.—Attendantson each side.

Trio.—"Tekeli."

Trio.—"Tekeli."

1st Atten.What will your majesty please to wear?Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown?

1st Atten.What will your majesty please to wear?

Or blue, green, red, black, white, or brown?

2nd Atten.D'ye choose to look at the bill of fare?[Showing long bill.

2nd Atten.D'ye choose to look at the bill of fare?[Showing long bill.

King.Get out of my sight, or I'll knock you down.

King.Get out of my sight, or I'll knock you down.

2nd Atten.Here is soup, fish, or goose, or duck, or fowl, or pigeons, pig, or hare!

2nd Atten.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, &c.

1st Atten.Or blue, or green, or red, or black, or white, or brown,

What will your Majesty, &c.

King.Get out of my sight, &c.[ExeuntAttendants.

King.Get out of my sight, &c.[ExeuntAttendants.

EnterFusbos,and kneels to theKing.

EnterFusbos,and kneels to theKing.

Fusbos.Hail, Artaxominous! yclep'd the Great!I come, an humble pillar of thy state,Pregnant with news—but ere that news I tell,First let me hope your Majesty is well.

Fusbos.Hail, Artaxominous! yclep'd the Great!

I come, an humble pillar of thy state,

Pregnant with news—but ere that news I tell,

First let me hope your Majesty is well.

King.Rise, learned Fusbos! rise, my friend, and knowWe are but middling—that is,so so!

King.Rise, learned Fusbos! rise, my friend, and know

We are but middling—that is,so so!

Fusbos.Onlyso 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?

Fusbos.Onlyso 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.

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,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.

Fusbos.Yes, I perceive it in that vacant eye,

The vest unbutton'd, and the wig awry;

So sickly cats neglect their fur-attire,

And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.

King.Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs,Moist'ning our clay, and puffing off our cares,Oft the replenish'd goblet did we drain,And drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again!Such was the case, our very actions such,Until at length we got a drop too much.

King.Last night, when undisturb'd by state affairs,

Moist'ning our clay, and puffing off our cares,

Oft the replenish'd goblet did we drain,

And drank and smok'd, and smok'd and drank again!

Such was the case, our very actions such,

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;The driver's curse unheeded swells the air,Since none can carry more than they can bear.

Fusbos.So when some donkey on the Blackheath Road,

Falls, overpower'd, beneath his sandy load;

The driver's curse unheeded swells the air,

Since none can carry more than they can bear.

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.Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news.

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.

Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news.

Fusbos[sits.]Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless forceAlone exceeds by far a brewer's horse,Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth!

Fusbos[sits.]Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless force

Alone exceeds by far a brewer's horse,

Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth!

King.Does he, by jingo? then we'll drink his health![Drum and Fife.

King.Does he, by jingo? then we'll drink his health![Drum and Fife.

Fusbos.But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drumAnnounce your army near; behold, they come!

Fusbos.But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drum

Announce your army near; behold, they come!

EnterBombastes,attended by oneDrummer,oneFifer,and twoSoldiers,all very materially differing in size.—They march round the stage and back.

EnterBombastes,attended by oneDrummer,oneFifer,and twoSoldiers,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.[ExeuntSoldiers.[To theKing.]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."My watch is gone," says he—says I, "Just so;Stop where you are—watches were made to go."

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.[ExeuntSoldiers.

[To theKing.]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.

"My watch is gone," says he—says I, "Just so;

Stop where you are—watches were made to go."

King.For which we make you Duke of Strombelo.[Bombasteskneels; theKingdubs him with a pipe, and then presents the bowl.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,Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch.

King.For which we make you Duke of Strombelo.

[Bombasteskneels; theKingdubs him with a pipe, and then presents the bowl.

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,

Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch.

Bombas.[rises.]Honours so great have all my toils repaid!My liege, and Fusbos, here's "Success to trade".

Bombas.[rises.]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 shopsThe deadly havoc of war's hatchet cease;Now shall we smoke the calumet of peace.

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.

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.Whate'er your Majesty shall deign to name,

Short cut or long to me is all the same.

}Bombas.{In short, so long, as we your favours claim,{Short cut or long, to us is all the same.Fusbos.{

}

Bombas.{In short, so long, as we your favours claim,

{Short cut or long, to us is all the same.

Fusbos.{

King.Thanks, gen'rous friends! now list whilst I impartHow 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,To you an equal portion shall belong;This do I swear, and now—let's have a song.

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,

To you an equal portion shall belong;

This do I swear, and now—let's have a song.

Fusbos.My liege shall be obeyed.[Advances and attempts to sing.

Fusbos.My liege shall be obeyed.[Advances and attempts to sing.

Bombas.Fusbos, give place,You know you haven't got a singing face;Here nature, smiling, gave the winning grace.

Bombas.Fusbos, give place,

You know you haven't got a singing face;

Here nature, smiling, gave the winning grace.

Song.—"Hope told a flatt'ring Tale."

Song.—"Hope told a flatt'ring Tale."

Hope told a flattering tale,Much longer than my arm,That love and pots of aleIn peace would keep me warm:The flatt'rer is not gone,She visits number one:In love I'm monstrous deep.Love! odsbobs, destroys my sleep,Hope told a flattering tale,Lest love should soon grow cool;A tub thrown to a whale,To make the fish a fool:Should Distaffina frown,Then love's gone out of town;And when love's dream is o'er,Then we wake and dream no more.[Exit.

Hope told a flattering tale,

Much longer than my arm,

That love and pots of ale

In peace would keep me warm:

The flatt'rer is not gone,

She visits number one:

In love I'm monstrous deep.

Love! odsbobs, destroys my sleep,

Hope told a flattering tale,

Lest love should soon grow cool;

A tub thrown to a whale,

To make the fish a fool:

Should Distaffina frown,

Then love's gone out of town;

And when love's dream is o'er,

Then we wake and dream no more.[Exit.

[TheKingevinces strong emotions during the song, and at the conclusion starts up.

[TheKingevinces strong emotions during the song, and at the conclusion starts up.

Fusbos.What ails my liege? ah! why that look so sad?

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,You, who have wisdom at your fingers' ends,Shall it be so, or shall it not be so?Shall I my Griskinissa's charms forego,Compel her to give up the regal chair,And place the rosy Distaffina there?In such a case, what course can I pursue?I love my queen, and Distaffina too.

King[coming forward.]I am in love! I scorch, I freeze, I'm mad!

Oh, tell me, Fusbos, first and best of friends,

You, who have wisdom at your fingers' ends,

Shall it be so, or shall it not be so?

Shall I my Griskinissa's charms forego,

Compel her to give up the regal chair,

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.

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.

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 school-boy, on a rainy day,Finds all his playmates will no longer stay,He takes the hint himself—and walks away.[Exit.

Fusbos.So when some school-boy, on a rainy day,

Finds all his playmates will no longer stay,

He takes the hint himself—and walks away.[Exit.

Scene II.—An Avenue of Trees.

Enter theKing.King.I'll seek the maid I love, though in my wayA dozen gen'rals stood in fierce array!Such rosy beauties nature meant for kings;Subjects have treat enough to see such things.

Enter theKing.King.I'll seek the maid I love, though in my wayA dozen gen'rals stood in fierce array!Such rosy beauties nature meant for kings;Subjects have treat enough to see such things.

Enter theKing.

Enter theKing.

King.I'll seek the maid I love, though in my wayA dozen gen'rals stood in fierce array!Such rosy beauties nature meant for kings;Subjects have treat enough to see such things.

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;

Subjects have treat enough to see such things.

Scene III.—Inside of a Cottage.

EnterDistaffina.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!Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash;But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash,Another cunning man my heart betray'd,Stole all away, and left my debts unpaid.Enter theKing.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 designA sum so trifling for such charms as thine.No! the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red,And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread,Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed.Distaf.[aside.]My dream is out, and I shall soon beholdThe 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 nowTo man or maid in suppliance bent) I vowStill 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;Let silly maids for love their favours yield,Rich ones for me—a king against the field.Song.—"Paddy's Wedding."Queen Dido atHer palace gateSat darning of her stocking O;She sung and drewThe worsted through,Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O;(For a babe she hadBy a soldier lad,Though hist'ry passes it over O);"You tell-tale brat,I've been a flat,Your daddy has proved a rover O.What a fool was ITo be cozen'd byA fellow without a penny O;When rich ones came,And ask'd the same,For I'd offers from never so many O;But I'll darn my hose,Look out for beaux,And quickly get a new lover O;Then come, lads, come,Love beats the drum,And a fig for Æneas the rover O."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 signO'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, craveMy 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,It fires my soul——Bombastes[within.]Ho, Distaffina, ho!King.Heard you that voice?Distaf.O 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.[Kingconceals himself in a closet in flat.EnterBombastes.Bombas.Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow,Scars got—I haven't time to tell you how;By all the risks my fearless heart hath run,Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun.Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun;By the great bunch of laurel on my brow,Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow!Oh! let me greet thee with a loving kiss——[Sees the hat.Why, what the devil!—say, whose hat is this?Distaf.Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat.Bombas.No hat?Distaf.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 theKing.Your most obedient, humble servant; sir.King.Oh, general, oh!Bombas.My much-loved master, oh!What means all this?King.Indeed I hardly know——Distaf.You hardly know?—a very pretty joke,If kingly promises so soon are broke!Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine?King.I do repent me of the foul design:To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restorePure Distaffina, and will never moreThrough lane or street with lawless passion rove,But give to Griskinissa all my love.Bombas.No, no, I'll love no more; let him who canFancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man.In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave,There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave.Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die,Since woman's constancy is—all my eye.Trio.—"O Lady Fair!"Dislaf.O, cruel man! where are you going?Sad are my wants, my rent is owing.Bombas.I go, I go, all comfort scorning;Some death I'll die before the morning.Distaf.Heigho, heigho! sad is that warning—Oh, do not die before the morning!King.I'll follow him, all danger scorning;He shall not die before the morning.Bombas.I go, I go, &c.Distaf.Heigho, heigho, &c.King.I'll follow him, &c.[They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tugs them off.

EnterDistaffina.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!Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash;But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash,Another cunning man my heart betray'd,Stole all away, and left my debts unpaid.Enter theKing.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 designA sum so trifling for such charms as thine.No! the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red,And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread,Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed.Distaf.[aside.]My dream is out, and I shall soon beholdThe 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 nowTo man or maid in suppliance bent) I vowStill 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;Let silly maids for love their favours yield,Rich ones for me—a king against the field.Song.—"Paddy's Wedding."Queen Dido atHer palace gateSat darning of her stocking O;She sung and drewThe worsted through,Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O;(For a babe she hadBy a soldier lad,Though hist'ry passes it over O);"You tell-tale brat,I've been a flat,Your daddy has proved a rover O.What a fool was ITo be cozen'd byA fellow without a penny O;When rich ones came,And ask'd the same,For I'd offers from never so many O;But I'll darn my hose,Look out for beaux,And quickly get a new lover O;Then come, lads, come,Love beats the drum,And a fig for Æneas the rover O."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 signO'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, craveMy 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,It fires my soul——Bombastes[within.]Ho, Distaffina, ho!King.Heard you that voice?Distaf.O 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.[Kingconceals himself in a closet in flat.EnterBombastes.Bombas.Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow,Scars got—I haven't time to tell you how;By all the risks my fearless heart hath run,Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun.Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun;By the great bunch of laurel on my brow,Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow!Oh! let me greet thee with a loving kiss——[Sees the hat.Why, what the devil!—say, whose hat is this?Distaf.Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat.Bombas.No hat?Distaf.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 theKing.Your most obedient, humble servant; sir.King.Oh, general, oh!Bombas.My much-loved master, oh!What means all this?King.Indeed I hardly know——Distaf.You hardly know?—a very pretty joke,If kingly promises so soon are broke!Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine?King.I do repent me of the foul design:To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restorePure Distaffina, and will never moreThrough lane or street with lawless passion rove,But give to Griskinissa all my love.Bombas.No, no, I'll love no more; let him who canFancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man.In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave,There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave.Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die,Since woman's constancy is—all my eye.Trio.—"O Lady Fair!"Dislaf.O, cruel man! where are you going?Sad are my wants, my rent is owing.Bombas.I go, I go, all comfort scorning;Some death I'll die before the morning.Distaf.Heigho, heigho! sad is that warning—Oh, do not die before the morning!King.I'll follow him, all danger scorning;He shall not die before the morning.Bombas.I go, I go, &c.Distaf.Heigho, heigho, &c.King.I'll follow him, &c.[They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tugs them off.

EnterDistaffina.

EnterDistaffina.

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!Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash;But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash,Another cunning man my heart betray'd,Stole all away, and left my debts unpaid.

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!

Then I resolv'd to cut a mighty dash;

But, lo! ere I could turn them into cash,

Another cunning man my heart betray'd,

Stole all away, and left my debts unpaid.

Enter theKing.

Enter theKing.

And pray, sir, who are you, I'd wish to know?

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.

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.

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;

King.He's but a general—damsel, I'm a king;

Distaf.Oh, sir, that makes it quite another thing.

Distaf.Oh, sir, that makes it quite another thing.

King.And think not, maiden, I could e'er designA sum so trifling for such charms as thine.No! the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red,And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread,Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed.

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,

And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread,

Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed.

Distaf.[aside.]My dream is out, and I shall soon beholdThe pots and pans all turn to shining gold.

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 nowTo man or maid in suppliance bent) I vowStill to remain, till you my hopes fulfil,Fixt as the Monument on Fish Street Hill.

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——

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?

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.

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."

Song.—"Paddy's Wedding."

Queen Dido atHer palace gateSat darning of her stocking O;She sung and drewThe worsted through,Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O;(For a babe she hadBy a soldier lad,Though hist'ry passes it over O);"You tell-tale brat,I've been a flat,Your daddy has proved a rover O.What a fool was ITo be cozen'd byA fellow without a penny O;When rich ones came,And ask'd the same,For I'd offers from never so many O;But I'll darn my hose,Look out for beaux,And quickly get a new lover O;Then come, lads, come,Love beats the drum,And a fig for Æneas the rover O."

Queen Dido at

Her palace gate

Sat darning of her stocking O;

She sung and drew

The worsted through,

Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O;

(For a babe she had

By a soldier lad,

Though hist'ry passes it over O);

"You tell-tale brat,

I've been a flat,

Your daddy has proved a rover O.

What a fool was I

To be cozen'd by

A fellow without a penny O;

When rich ones came,

And ask'd the same,

For I'd offers from never so many O;

But I'll darn my hose,

Look out for beaux,

And quickly get a new lover O;

Then come, lads, come,

Love beats the drum,

And a fig for Æneas the rover O."

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 signO'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.

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, craveMy love to taste of this, the best I have?

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,It fires my soul——

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,

It fires my soul——

Bombastes[within.]Ho, Distaffina, ho!

Bombastes[within.]Ho, Distaffina, ho!

King.Heard you that voice?

King.Heard you that voice?

Distaf.O yes, 'tis what's his name,The General; send him packing as he came.

Distaf.O 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!

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.[Kingconceals himself in a closet in flat.

Distaf.Why, sure you're not alarm'd at such a thing?

He's but a general, and you're a king.

[Kingconceals himself in a closet in flat.

EnterBombastes.

EnterBombastes.

Bombas.Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow,Scars got—I haven't time to tell you how;By all the risks my fearless heart hath run,Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun.Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun;By the great bunch of laurel on my brow,Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow!Oh! let me greet thee with a loving kiss——[Sees the hat.Why, what the devil!—say, whose hat is this?

Bombas.Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow,

Scars got—I haven't time to tell you how;

By all the risks my fearless heart hath run,

Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun.

Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun;

By the great bunch of laurel on my brow,

Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow!

Oh! let me greet thee with a loving kiss——[Sees the hat.

Why, what the devil!—say, whose hat is this?

Distaf.Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat.

Distaf.Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat.

Bombas.No hat?

Bombas.No hat?

Distaf.Suppose it is, why, what of that?A hat can do no harm without a head!

Distaf.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 theKing.Your most obedient, humble servant; sir.

Bombas.Whoe'er it fits, this hour I doom him dead;

Alive from hence the caitiff shall not stir——

[Discovers theKing.

Your most obedient, humble servant; sir.

King.Oh, general, oh!

King.Oh, general, oh!

Bombas.My much-loved master, oh!What means all this?

Bombas.My much-loved master, oh!

What means all this?

King.Indeed I hardly know——

King.Indeed I hardly know——

Distaf.You hardly know?—a very pretty joke,If kingly promises so soon are broke!Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine?

Distaf.You hardly know?—a very pretty joke,

If kingly promises so soon are broke!

Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine?

King.I do repent me of the foul design:To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restorePure Distaffina, and will never moreThrough lane or street with lawless passion rove,But give to Griskinissa all my love.

King.I do repent me of the foul design:

To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restore

Pure Distaffina, and will never more

Through lane or street with lawless passion rove,

But give to Griskinissa all my love.

Bombas.No, no, I'll love no more; let him who canFancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man.In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave,There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave.Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die,Since woman's constancy is—all my eye.

Bombas.No, no, I'll love no more; let him who can

Fancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man.

In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave,

There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave.

Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die,

Since woman's constancy is—all my eye.

Trio.—"O Lady Fair!"

Trio.—"O Lady Fair!"

Dislaf.O, cruel man! where are you going?Sad are my wants, my rent is owing.

Dislaf.O, cruel man! where are you going?

Sad are my wants, my rent is owing.

Bombas.I go, I go, all comfort scorning;Some death I'll die before the morning.

Bombas.I go, I go, all comfort scorning;

Some death I'll die before the morning.

Distaf.Heigho, heigho! sad is that warning—Oh, do not die before the morning!

Distaf.Heigho, heigho! sad is that warning—

Oh, do not die before the morning!

King.I'll follow him, all danger scorning;He shall not die before the morning.

King.I'll follow him, all danger scorning;

He shall not die before the morning.

Bombas.I go, I go, &c.

Bombas.I go, I go, &c.

Distaf.Heigho, heigho, &c.

Distaf.Heigho, heigho, &c.

King.I'll follow him, &c.

King.I'll follow him, &c.

[They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tugs them off.

[They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tugs them off.

EnterFusbos.Fusbos.This day is big with fate: just as I setMy foot across the threshold, lo! I metA man whose squint terrific struck my view;Another came, and lo! he squinted too;And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street,Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meetA third who squinted more—a fourth, and heSquinted more vilely than the other three.Such omens met the eye when Cæsar fell,But cautioned him in vain; and who can tellWhether those awful notices of fateAre meant for kings or ministers of state;For rich or poor, old, young, or short or tall,The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all.Song.—"My Lodging is on the Cold Ground."My lodging is in Leather Lane,A parlour that's next to the sky;'Tis exposed to the wind and the rain,But the wind and the rain I defy:Such love warms the coldest of spots,As I feel for Scrubinda the fair;Oh, she lives by the scouring of pots,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.Oh, were I a quart, pint, or gill,To be scrubb'd by her delicate hands,Let others possess what they willOf learning, and houses, and lands;My parlour that's next to the skyI'd quit, her blest mansion to share;So happy to live and to dieIn Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.And oh, would this damsel be mine,No other provision I'd seek;On a look I could breakfast and dine,And feast on a smile for a week.But ah! should she false-hearted prove,Suspended, I'll dangle in air;A victim to delicate love,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.[Exit.EnterBombastes,preceded by a Fifer, playing "Michael Wiggins."Bombas.Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strainProceed—play "Michael Wiggins" once again[he does so.]Music's the food of love; give o'er, give o'er,For I must batten on that food no more.[ExitFifer.My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps,Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps.So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees,Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese,And bent some favour'd party to regale,Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale;Lo, angry fate! In one unlucky hourSome hungry rats may all the cheese devour,And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour[forms his sash into a noose.]Alas! alack! alack! and well-a-day,That ever man should make himself away!That ever man for woman false should die,As many have, and so, and so[prepares to hang himself, tries the sensation, but disapproves of the result]won't I!No, I'll go mad! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage,And with this wicked wanton world a woeful war I'll wage![Hangs his boots to the arm of a tree, and taking a scrap of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, which he attaches to them, repeating the words:—"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Thus do I challenge all the human race.[Draws his sword, and retires up the stage, and off.Enter theKing.King.Scorning my proffer'd hand, he frowning fled,Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head[perceives the boots and label..]"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Ha! dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf?I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself:Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to goWhere I shall send thee—to the shades below[knocks down the boots.]Bombas.[coming forward.]So have I heard on Afric's burning shore,A hungry lion give a grievous roar;The grievous roar echo'd along the shore.King.So have I heard on Afric's burning shoreAnother lion give a grievous roar,And the first lion thought the last a bore.Bombas.Am I then mocked? Now by my fame I swearYou soon shall have it—There![They fight.King.Where?Bombas.There and there!King.I have it sure enough—Oh! I am slain!I'd give a pot of beer to live again[falls on his back];Yet ere I die I something have to say:My once-lov'd gen'ral, pri'thee come this way!Oh! oh! my Bom——[Dies.Bombas.—Bastes he would have said;But ere the word was out, his breath was fled.Well, peace be with him, his untimely doomShall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb:—"Fate cropt him short—for be it understood.He would have liv'd much longer—if he could."[Retires again up the stage.EnterFusbos.Fusbos.This was the way they came, and much I fearThere's mischief in the wind. What have we here?King Artaxominous bereft of life!Here'll be a pretty tale to tell his wife.Bombas.A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell,For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell;There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well.Fusbos.No, thou thyself shalt thy own message bear;Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there.[They fight—Bombastesis wounded.Bombas.Oh, Fusbos, Fusbos! I am diddled quite,Dark clouds come o'er my eyes—farewell, good night!Good night! my mighty soul's inclined to roam,So make my compliments to all at home.[Lies down by theKing.Fusbos.And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise,Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes;And this short epitaph that speaks thy fame,Shall also there immortalize my name:—"Here lies Bombastes, stout of heart and limb,Who conquered all but Fusbos—Fusbos him."EnterDistaffina.Distaf.Ah, wretched maid! Oh, miserable fate!I've just arrived in time to be too late;What now shall hapless Distaffina do?Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true!Fusbos.Go, beauty go, thou source of woe to man,And get another lover where you can:The crown now sits on Griskinissa's head,To her I'll go——Distaf.But are you sure they're dead?Fusbos.Yes, dead as herrings—herrings that are red.

EnterFusbos.Fusbos.This day is big with fate: just as I setMy foot across the threshold, lo! I metA man whose squint terrific struck my view;Another came, and lo! he squinted too;And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street,Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meetA third who squinted more—a fourth, and heSquinted more vilely than the other three.Such omens met the eye when Cæsar fell,But cautioned him in vain; and who can tellWhether those awful notices of fateAre meant for kings or ministers of state;For rich or poor, old, young, or short or tall,The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all.Song.—"My Lodging is on the Cold Ground."My lodging is in Leather Lane,A parlour that's next to the sky;'Tis exposed to the wind and the rain,But the wind and the rain I defy:Such love warms the coldest of spots,As I feel for Scrubinda the fair;Oh, she lives by the scouring of pots,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.Oh, were I a quart, pint, or gill,To be scrubb'd by her delicate hands,Let others possess what they willOf learning, and houses, and lands;My parlour that's next to the skyI'd quit, her blest mansion to share;So happy to live and to dieIn Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.And oh, would this damsel be mine,No other provision I'd seek;On a look I could breakfast and dine,And feast on a smile for a week.But ah! should she false-hearted prove,Suspended, I'll dangle in air;A victim to delicate love,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.[Exit.EnterBombastes,preceded by a Fifer, playing "Michael Wiggins."Bombas.Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strainProceed—play "Michael Wiggins" once again[he does so.]Music's the food of love; give o'er, give o'er,For I must batten on that food no more.[ExitFifer.My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps,Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps.So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees,Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese,And bent some favour'd party to regale,Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale;Lo, angry fate! In one unlucky hourSome hungry rats may all the cheese devour,And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour[forms his sash into a noose.]Alas! alack! alack! and well-a-day,That ever man should make himself away!That ever man for woman false should die,As many have, and so, and so[prepares to hang himself, tries the sensation, but disapproves of the result]won't I!No, I'll go mad! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage,And with this wicked wanton world a woeful war I'll wage![Hangs his boots to the arm of a tree, and taking a scrap of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, which he attaches to them, repeating the words:—"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Thus do I challenge all the human race.[Draws his sword, and retires up the stage, and off.Enter theKing.King.Scorning my proffer'd hand, he frowning fled,Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head[perceives the boots and label..]"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Ha! dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf?I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself:Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to goWhere I shall send thee—to the shades below[knocks down the boots.]Bombas.[coming forward.]So have I heard on Afric's burning shore,A hungry lion give a grievous roar;The grievous roar echo'd along the shore.King.So have I heard on Afric's burning shoreAnother lion give a grievous roar,And the first lion thought the last a bore.Bombas.Am I then mocked? Now by my fame I swearYou soon shall have it—There![They fight.King.Where?Bombas.There and there!King.I have it sure enough—Oh! I am slain!I'd give a pot of beer to live again[falls on his back];Yet ere I die I something have to say:My once-lov'd gen'ral, pri'thee come this way!Oh! oh! my Bom——[Dies.Bombas.—Bastes he would have said;But ere the word was out, his breath was fled.Well, peace be with him, his untimely doomShall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb:—"Fate cropt him short—for be it understood.He would have liv'd much longer—if he could."[Retires again up the stage.EnterFusbos.Fusbos.This was the way they came, and much I fearThere's mischief in the wind. What have we here?King Artaxominous bereft of life!Here'll be a pretty tale to tell his wife.Bombas.A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell,For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell;There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well.Fusbos.No, thou thyself shalt thy own message bear;Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there.[They fight—Bombastesis wounded.Bombas.Oh, Fusbos, Fusbos! I am diddled quite,Dark clouds come o'er my eyes—farewell, good night!Good night! my mighty soul's inclined to roam,So make my compliments to all at home.[Lies down by theKing.Fusbos.And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise,Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes;And this short epitaph that speaks thy fame,Shall also there immortalize my name:—"Here lies Bombastes, stout of heart and limb,Who conquered all but Fusbos—Fusbos him."EnterDistaffina.Distaf.Ah, wretched maid! Oh, miserable fate!I've just arrived in time to be too late;What now shall hapless Distaffina do?Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true!Fusbos.Go, beauty go, thou source of woe to man,And get another lover where you can:The crown now sits on Griskinissa's head,To her I'll go——Distaf.But are you sure they're dead?Fusbos.Yes, dead as herrings—herrings that are red.

EnterFusbos.

EnterFusbos.

Fusbos.This day is big with fate: just as I setMy foot across the threshold, lo! I metA man whose squint terrific struck my view;Another came, and lo! he squinted too;And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street,Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meetA third who squinted more—a fourth, and heSquinted more vilely than the other three.Such omens met the eye when Cæsar fell,But cautioned him in vain; and who can tellWhether those awful notices of fateAre meant for kings or ministers of state;For rich or poor, old, young, or short or tall,The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all.

Fusbos.This day is big with fate: just as I set

My foot across the threshold, lo! I met

A man whose squint terrific struck my view;

Another came, and lo! he squinted too;

And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street,

Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meet

A third who squinted more—a fourth, and he

Squinted more vilely than the other three.

Such omens met the eye when Cæsar fell,

But cautioned him in vain; and who can tell

Whether those awful notices of fate

Are meant for kings or ministers of state;

For rich or poor, old, young, or short or tall,

The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all.

Song.—"My Lodging is on the Cold Ground."

Song.—"My Lodging is on the Cold Ground."

My lodging is in Leather Lane,A parlour that's next to the sky;'Tis exposed to the wind and the rain,But the wind and the rain I defy:Such love warms the coldest of spots,As I feel for Scrubinda the fair;Oh, she lives by the scouring of pots,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.

My lodging is in Leather Lane,

A parlour that's next to the sky;

'Tis exposed to the wind and the rain,

But the wind and the rain I defy:

Such love warms the coldest of spots,

As I feel for Scrubinda the fair;

Oh, she lives by the scouring of pots,

In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.

Oh, were I a quart, pint, or gill,To be scrubb'd by her delicate hands,Let others possess what they willOf learning, and houses, and lands;My parlour that's next to the skyI'd quit, her blest mansion to share;So happy to live and to dieIn Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.

Oh, were I a quart, pint, or gill,

To be scrubb'd by her delicate hands,

Let others possess what they will

Of learning, and houses, and lands;

My parlour that's next to the sky

I'd quit, her blest mansion to share;

So happy to live and to die

In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.

And oh, would this damsel be mine,No other provision I'd seek;On a look I could breakfast and dine,And feast on a smile for a week.But ah! should she false-hearted prove,Suspended, I'll dangle in air;A victim to delicate love,In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.[Exit.

And oh, would this damsel be mine,

No other provision I'd seek;

On a look I could breakfast and dine,

And feast on a smile for a week.

But ah! should she false-hearted prove,

Suspended, I'll dangle in air;

A victim to delicate love,

In Dyot Street, Bloomsbury Square.[Exit.

EnterBombastes,preceded by a Fifer, playing "Michael Wiggins."

EnterBombastes,preceded by a Fifer, playing "Michael Wiggins."

Bombas.Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strainProceed—play "Michael Wiggins" once again[he does so.]Music's the food of love; give o'er, give o'er,For I must batten on that food no more.[ExitFifer.My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps,Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps.So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees,Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese,And bent some favour'd party to regale,Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale;Lo, angry fate! In one unlucky hourSome hungry rats may all the cheese devour,And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour[forms his sash into a noose.]Alas! alack! alack! and well-a-day,That ever man should make himself away!That ever man for woman false should die,As many have, and so, and so[prepares to hang himself, tries the sensation, but disapproves of the result]won't I!No, I'll go mad! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage,And with this wicked wanton world a woeful war I'll wage!

Bombas.Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strain

Proceed—play "Michael Wiggins" once again[he does so.]

Music's the food of love; give o'er, give o'er,

For I must batten on that food no more.[ExitFifer.

My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps,

Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps.

So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees,

Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese,

And bent some favour'd party to regale,

Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale;

Lo, angry fate! In one unlucky hour

Some hungry rats may all the cheese devour,

And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour[forms his sash into a noose.]

Alas! alack! alack! and well-a-day,

That ever man should make himself away!

That ever man for woman false should die,

As many have, and so, and so[prepares to hang himself, tries the sensation, but disapproves of the result]won't I!

No, I'll go mad! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage,

And with this wicked wanton world a woeful war I'll wage!

[Hangs his boots to the arm of a tree, and taking a scrap of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, which he attaches to them, repeating the words:—

[Hangs his boots to the arm of a tree, and taking a scrap of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, which he attaches to them, repeating the words:—

"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Thus do I challenge all the human race.[Draws his sword, and retires up the stage, and off.

"Who dares this pair of boots displace,

Must meet Bombastes face to face."

Thus do I challenge all the human race.

[Draws his sword, and retires up the stage, and off.

Enter theKing.

Enter theKing.

King.Scorning my proffer'd hand, he frowning fled,Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head[perceives the boots and label..]"Who dares this pair of boots displace,Must meet Bombastes face to face."Ha! dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf?I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself:Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to goWhere I shall send thee—to the shades below[knocks down the boots.]

King.Scorning my proffer'd hand, he frowning fled,

Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head[perceives the boots and label..]

"Who dares this pair of boots displace,

Must meet Bombastes face to face."

Ha! dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf?

I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself:

Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to go

Where I shall send thee—to the shades below[knocks down the boots.]

Bombas.[coming forward.]So have I heard on Afric's burning shore,A hungry lion give a grievous roar;The grievous roar echo'd along the shore.

Bombas.[coming forward.]So have I heard on Afric's burning shore,

A hungry lion give a grievous roar;

The grievous roar echo'd along the shore.

King.So have I heard on Afric's burning shoreAnother lion give a grievous roar,And the first lion thought the last a bore.

King.So have I heard on Afric's burning shore

Another lion give a grievous roar,

And the first lion thought the last a bore.

Bombas.Am I then mocked? Now by my fame I swearYou soon shall have it—There![They fight.

Bombas.Am I then mocked? Now by my fame I swear

You soon shall have it—There![They fight.

King.Where?

King.Where?

Bombas.There and there!

Bombas.There and there!

King.I have it sure enough—Oh! I am slain!I'd give a pot of beer to live again[falls on his back];Yet ere I die I something have to say:My once-lov'd gen'ral, pri'thee come this way!Oh! oh! my Bom——[Dies.

King.I have it sure enough—Oh! I am slain!

I'd give a pot of beer to live again[falls on his back];

Yet ere I die I something have to say:

My once-lov'd gen'ral, pri'thee come this way!

Oh! oh! my Bom——[Dies.

Bombas.—Bastes he would have said;But ere the word was out, his breath was fled.Well, peace be with him, his untimely doomShall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb:—"Fate cropt him short—for be it understood.He would have liv'd much longer—if he could."[Retires again up the stage.

Bombas.—Bastes he would have said;

But ere the word was out, his breath was fled.

Well, peace be with him, his untimely doom

Shall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb:—

"Fate cropt him short—for be it understood.

He would have liv'd much longer—if he could."[Retires again up the stage.

EnterFusbos.

EnterFusbos.

Fusbos.This was the way they came, and much I fearThere's mischief in the wind. What have we here?King Artaxominous bereft of life!Here'll be a pretty tale to tell his wife.

Fusbos.This was the way they came, and much I fear

There's mischief in the wind. What have we here?

King Artaxominous bereft of life!

Here'll be a pretty tale to tell his wife.

Bombas.A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell,For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell;There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well.

Bombas.A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell,

For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell;

There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well.

Fusbos.No, thou thyself shalt thy own message bear;Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there.[They fight—Bombastesis wounded.

Fusbos.No, thou thyself shalt thy own message bear;

Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there.[They fight—Bombastesis wounded.

Bombas.Oh, Fusbos, Fusbos! I am diddled quite,Dark clouds come o'er my eyes—farewell, good night!Good night! my mighty soul's inclined to roam,So make my compliments to all at home.[Lies down by theKing.

Bombas.Oh, Fusbos, Fusbos! I am diddled quite,

Dark clouds come o'er my eyes—farewell, good night!

Good night! my mighty soul's inclined to roam,

So make my compliments to all at home.[Lies down by theKing.

Fusbos.And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise,Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes;And this short epitaph that speaks thy fame,Shall also there immortalize my name:—"Here lies Bombastes, stout of heart and limb,Who conquered all but Fusbos—Fusbos him."

Fusbos.And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise,

Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes;

And this short epitaph that speaks thy fame,

Shall also there immortalize my name:—

"Here lies Bombastes, stout of heart and limb,

Who conquered all but Fusbos—Fusbos him."

EnterDistaffina.

EnterDistaffina.

Distaf.Ah, wretched maid! Oh, miserable fate!I've just arrived in time to be too late;What now shall hapless Distaffina do?Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true!

Distaf.Ah, wretched maid! Oh, miserable fate!

I've just arrived in time to be too late;

What now shall hapless Distaffina do?

Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true!

Fusbos.Go, beauty go, thou source of woe to man,And get another lover where you can:The crown now sits on Griskinissa's head,To her I'll go——

Fusbos.Go, beauty go, thou source of woe to man,

And get another lover where you can:

The crown now sits on Griskinissa's head,

To her I'll go——

Distaf.But are you sure they're dead?

Distaf.But are you sure they're dead?

Fusbos.Yes, dead as herrings—herrings that are red.

Fusbos.Yes, dead as herrings—herrings that are red.

Distaf.Briny tears I'll shed,King.I for joy shall cry, too;[Rising.Fusbos.Zounds! the King's alive!Bombas.Yes, and so am I, too![Rising.Distaf.It was better far,King.Thus to check all sorrow;Fusbos.But, if some folks please,Bombas.We'll die again to-morrow!Distaf.Tu ral, lu ral, la,King.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi;Fusbos.Tu ral, lu ral, la,Bombas.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi!They take hands and dance round, repeating Chorus.

Distaf.Briny tears I'll shed,King.I for joy shall cry, too;[Rising.Fusbos.Zounds! the King's alive!Bombas.Yes, and so am I, too![Rising.Distaf.It was better far,King.Thus to check all sorrow;Fusbos.But, if some folks please,Bombas.We'll die again to-morrow!Distaf.Tu ral, lu ral, la,King.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi;Fusbos.Tu ral, lu ral, la,Bombas.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi!They take hands and dance round, repeating Chorus.

Distaf.Briny tears I'll shed,

Distaf.Briny tears I'll shed,

King.I for joy shall cry, too;[Rising.

King.I for joy shall cry, too;[Rising.

Fusbos.Zounds! the King's alive!

Fusbos.Zounds! the King's alive!

Bombas.Yes, and so am I, too![Rising.

Bombas.Yes, and so am I, too![Rising.

Distaf.It was better far,

Distaf.It was better far,

King.Thus to check all sorrow;

King.Thus to check all sorrow;

Fusbos.But, if some folks please,

Fusbos.But, if some folks please,

Bombas.We'll die again to-morrow!

Bombas.We'll die again to-morrow!

Distaf.Tu ral, lu ral, la,

Distaf.Tu ral, lu ral, la,

King.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi;

King.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi;

Fusbos.Tu ral, lu ral, la,

Fusbos.Tu ral, lu ral, la,

Bombas.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi!

Bombas.Tu ral, lu ral, laddi!

They take hands and dance round, repeating Chorus.

They take hands and dance round, repeating Chorus.

——♦——

PREFACE.

On the 14th of August, 1812, the following advertisement appeared in most of the daily papers:

"Rebuilding of Drury Lane Theatre.

"The Committee are desirous of promoting a free and fair competition for an Address to be spoken upon the opening of the Theatre, which will take place, on the 10th of October next. They have therefore thought fit to announce to the public, that they will be glad to receive any such compositions, addressed to their Secretary, at the Treasury Office, in Drury Lane, on or before the 10th of September, sealed up, with a distinguishing word, number, or motto, on the cover, corresponding with the inscription on a separate sealed paper containing the name of the author, which will not be opened, unless containing the name of the successful candidate."

Upon the propriety of this plan, men's minds were, as they usually are upon matters of moment, much divided. Some thought it a fair promise of the future intention of the Committee to abolish that phalanx of authors who usurp the stage, to the exclusion of a large assortment of dramatic talent blushing unseen in the background; while others contended, that the scheme would prevent men of real eminence from descending into an amphitheatre in which all Grub Street (that is to say, all London and Westminster) would be arrayed against them. The event has proved both parties to be in a degree right, and in a degree wrong. One hundred and twelve Addresses have been sent in, each sealed and signed, and mottoed, "as per order," some written by men of great, some by men of little, and some by men of no talent.

Many of the public prints have censured the taste of the Committee, in thus contracting for Addresses as they would for nails—by the gross; but it is surprising that none should have censured theirtemerity. One hundred and eleven of the Addresses must, of course, be unsuccessful: to each of theauthors, thus infallibly classed with thegenus irritabile, it would be very hard to deny six staunch friends, who consider his the best of all possible Addresses, and whose tongues will be as ready to laud him as to hiss his adversary. These, with the potent aid of the bard himself, make seven foes per Address, and thus will be created seven hundred and seventy-seven implacable auditors, prepared to condemn the strains of Apollo himself; a band of adversaries which no prudent manager would think of exasperating.

But leaving the Committee to encounter the responsibility they have incurred, the public have at least to thank them for ascertaining and establishing one point, which might otherwise have admitted of controversy. When it is considered that many amateur writers have been discouraged from becoming competitors, and that few, if any, of the professional authors can afford to write for nothing, and of course have not been candidates for the honorary prize at Drury Lane, we may confidently pronounce, that, as far as regardsnumber, the present is undoubtedly the Augustan age of English poetry. Whether or not this distinction will be extended to thequalityof its productions, must be decided at the tribunal of posterity, though the natural anxiety of our authors on this score ought to be considerably diminished, when they reflect how few will, in all probability, be had up for judgment.

It is not necessary for the Editor to mention the manner in which he became possessed of this "fair sample of the present state of poetry in Great Britain." It was his first intention to publish the whole; but a little reflection convinced him that, by so doing, he might depress the good, without elevating the bad. He has therefore culled what had the appearance of flowers, from what possessed the reality of weeds, and is extremely sorry that, in so doing, he has diminished his collection to twenty-one. Those which he has rejected may possibly make their appearance in a separate volume, or they may be admitted as volunteers in the files of some of the newspapers; or, at all events, they are sure of being received among the awkward squad of the Magazines. In general, they bear a close resemblance to each other: thirty of them contain extravagant compliments to the immortal Wellington, and the indefatigable Whitbread; and, as the last-mentioned gentleman is said to dislike praise in the exact proportion in which he deserves it, these laudatory writers have probably been only building a wall, against which they might run their own heads.

The Editor here begs leave to advance a few words in behalf of that useful and much-abused bird, the Phœnix, and in so doing he is biassed by no partiality, as he assures the reader he not only never saw one, but (mirabile dictu!) never caged one in a simile in the whole course of his life. Not less than sixty-nineof the competitors have invoked the aid of this native of Arabia; but as from their manner of using him, after they had caught him, he does not by any means appear to have been a native of ArabiaFelix, the Editor has left the proprietors to treat with Mr. Polito, and refused to receive thisrara avis, or black swan, into the present collection. One exception occurs, in which the admirable treatment of this feathered incombustible entitles the author to great praise. That Address has been preserved, and in the ensuing pages takes the lead, to which its dignity entitles it.

Perhaps the reason why several of the subjoined productions of theMusæ Londinenseshave failed of selection, may be discovered in their being penned in a metre unusual upon occasions of this sort, and in their not being written with that attention to stage effect, the want of which, like want of manners in the concerns of life, is more prejudicial than a deficiency of talent. There is an art in writing for the Theatre, technically calledtouch and go, which is indispensable when we consider the small quantum of patience which so motley an assemblage as a London audience can be expected to afford. All the contributors have been very exact in sending their initials and mottoes. Those belonging to the present collection have been carefully preserved, and each has been affixed to its respective poem. The letters that accompanied the Addresses having been honourably destroyed unopened, it is impossible to state the real authors with any certainty, but the ingenious reader, after comparing the initials with the motto, and both with the poem, may form his own conclusions.

The Editor does not anticipate any disapprobation from thus giving publicity to a small portion of theRejected Addresses; for, unless he is widely mistaken in assigning the respective authors, the fame of each individual is established on much too firm a basis to be shaken by so trifling and evanescent a publication as the present:

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