SCENE I.--_Interior of the Palace.

_The_ KING _in his chair of state.--A table set out with punchbowl, glasses, pipes, &c._--ATTENDANTS _on 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. [_Exeunt_ ATTENDANTS.

_Enter_ FUSBOS, _and kneels to the_ KING.

_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 know We are but middling--that is, _so so!_

_Fusbos._ Only _so so!_ Oh, monstrous, doleful thing! Is it the mulligrubs affects the king? Or, dropping poisons in the cup of joy, Do the blue devils your repose annoy?

_King._ Nor mulligrubs nor devils blue are here, But yet we feel ourselves a little queer.

_Fusbos._ Yes, I perceive it in that vacant eye, The vest unbutton'd, and the wig awry; So sickly cats neglect their fur-attire, 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 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._

_Fusbos._ But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drum Announce your army near; behold, they come!

_Enter_ BOMBASTES, _attended by one_ DRUMMER, _one_ FIFER, _and two_ SOLDIERS, _all very materially differing in size.--They march round the stage and back_.

_Bombas._ Meet me this ev'ning at the Barley Mow; I'll bring your pay--you see I'm busy now: Begone, brave army, and don't kick up a row. [_Exeunt_ SOLDIERS. [_To the_ KING.] Thrash'd are your foes--this watch and silken string, Worn by their chief, I as a trophy bring; I knock'd him down, then snatch'd it from his fob; "Watch, watch," he cried, when I had done the job. "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. [BOMBASTES _kneels; the_ KING _dubs 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 shops The deadly havoc of war's hatchet cease; Now shall we smoke the calumet of peace.

_King._ I shall smoke short-cut, you smoke what you please.

_Bombas._ Whate'er your Majesty shall deign to name, Short cut or long to me is all the same.

_Bombas._ } In short, so long, as we your favours claim, and } Short cut or long, to us is all the same. _Fusbos._ }

_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._

_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 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._

[_The_ KING _evinces strong emotions during the song, and at the conclusion starts up._

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

_King_ [_coming forward._] I am in love! I scorch, I freeze, I'm mad! Oh, tell me, Fusbos, first and best of friends, 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._