SCENE II.

_Enter the two_ KINGS, _hand in hand_.

_Bayes._ Oh, these are now the two kings of Brentford; take notice of their style, 'twas never yet upon the stage: but if you like it, I could make a shift perhaps to show you a whole play, writ all just so.

_1st King._ Did you observe their whispers, brother king?

_2nd King._ I did, and heard, besides, a grave bird sing, That they intend, sweetheart, to play us pranks.

_Bayes._ This is now familiar, because they are both persons of the same quality.

_Smith._ S'death, this would make a man sick.

_1st King._ If that design appears, I'll lug them by the ears, Until I make 'em crack.

_2nd King._ And so will I, i'fack.

_1st King._ You must begin, _Ma foy_.

_2nd King._ Sweet sir, _Pardonnez moy_.

_Bayes._ Mark that; I make 'em both speak French, to show their breeding.

_Johns._ Oh, 'tis extraordinary fine!

_2nd King._ Then spite of fate, we'll thus combined stand, And, like two brothers, walk still hand in hand. [_Exeunt Reges._

_Johns._ This is a majestic scene indeed.

_Bayes._ Ay, 'tis a crust, a lasting crust for your rogue-critics, egad: I would fain see the proudest of 'em all but dare to nibble at this; egad, if they do, this shall rub their gums for 'em, I promise you. It was I, you must know, that have written a whole play just in this very same style; it was never acted yet.

_Johns._ How so?

_Bayes._ Egad, I can hardly tell you for laughing: ha, ha, ha! it is so pleasant a story: ha, ha, ha!

_Smith._ What is't?

_Bayes._ Egad, the players refuse to act it. Ha, ha, ha!

_Smith._ That's impossible!

_Bayes._ Egad, they did it, sir; point-blank refus'd it, egad, ha, ha, ha!

_Johns._ Fie, that was rude.

_Bayes._ Rude! ay, egad, they are the rudest, uncivillest persons, and all that, in the whole world, egad. Egad, there's no living with 'em. I have written, Mr. Johnson, I do verily believe, a whole cartload of things, every whit as good as this; and yet, I vow to gad, these insolent rascals have turn'd 'em all back upon my hands again.

_Johns._ Strange fellows indeed!

_Smith._ But pray, Mr. Bayes, how came these two kings to know of this whisper? for, as I remember, they were not present at it.

_Bayes._ No, but that's the actors' fault, and not mine; for the two kings should (a plague take 'em) have popp'd both their heads in at the door, just as the other went off.

_Smith._ That indeed would have done it.

_Bayes._ Done it! ay, egad, these fellows are able to spoil the best things in Christendom. I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson, I vow to gad, I have been so highly disoblig'd by the peremptoriness of these fellows, that I'm resolved hereafter to bend my thoughts wholly for the service of the nursery, and mump your proud players, egad. So, now Prince Prettyman comes in, and falls asleep, making love to his mistress; which you know was a grand intrigue in a late play, written by a very honest gentleman, a knight.[14]