SCENE, Bombardinion's Tent.

Enter King and Bombardinion.

Bom. This honour, royal Sir, fo realizes The royalty of your most royal actions,

The dumb can only utter forth their praise;

For we who fpeak, want words to tell our meaning, Here, fill the goblets with Phalernian wine;

And while our monarch drinks, bid the fhrill trumpet Tell all the gods that we propine their healths.

[Trumpet founds. King. Hold, Bombardinion: I esteem it fit,

With fo much wine, to eat a little bit.

Bom. See that the table inftantly be spread With all that art or Natnre can produce: Traverse from pole to pole; fail round the world : Bring ev'ry eatable that can be eat;

The king fhall eat, though all mankind be starv'd.

nute.

Enter Cook.

Cook. And it please your honour, there's fome cold pork in the pantry; I'll hafh it for his Majefty in a mi[Exit in a hurry. King. Hafh'd pork! Shall Chrononhotonthologos. Be fed with fwine's flesh, and at fecond hand ? Now, by the gods! thou doft infult us, general. Bom. The gods can witness that I little thought Your majefty to pork had fuch averfion!

King. Away, thou traitor! doft thou mock thy mafter? [Strikes him. Bom. A blow! Shall Bombardinion take a blow? Blush, blush, thou fun! ftart back, thou rapid ocean! Hills, vales, feas, mountains, all commixing, crumble, And into chaos pulverize the world; For Bombardinion has receiv'd a blow, And Chrononhotonthologos fhall die. King. What means the traitor ? Bom. Traitor in thy teeth:

Thus I defy thee.
Ha

what have I done?

[Draws.

[Draws.

[They fight; he kills the king.

Go call a coach, and let a coach be call'd;
And let the man that calls it be the caller;
And in his calling, let him nothing call,

But

A

But coach, coach, coach! O for a coach, ye gods!

Returns with a Doctor.

Bom. How fares your majefty?

Doct. My Lord, he's dead.

[Exit raving

Bom. Ha, dead? impoffible! it cannot be !
I'd not believe it, though he himfelf should fwear it.
Go join his body to his foul again,

Or by this hand thy foul fhall quit thy body.

Doct. My Lord, he's paft the pow'r of phyfic:
His foul has left this world.

Bom. Then go to t'other world and fetch it back ;

[Kills him.

And if I find thou trifleft with me there,
I'll chace thy fhade through myriads of orbs,
And drive thee far beyond the verge of Nature.
Ha! call'ft thou, Chrononhotonthologos?

I come! your faithful Bombardinion comes?
He comes, in worlds unknown, to make new wars,
And gain thee empires num'rous as the ftars.

Enter Queen and others.

[Kills himself.

Ald. O horrible! horrible! and horrid'ft horror!
Our king, our general, our doctor dead!

All dead! ftone dead! irrecoverably dead!

Oh!

[All groan a tragedy groan. Queen. My husband dead! ye gods, what is't you mean, To make a widow of a virgin-queen?

For, to my great misfortune, he, poor king,
Has left me fo, and that's a wretched thing!

Tat. Why then, dear Madam, make no further pother;

Were I your Majefty, I'd try another.

Queen. I think 'tis beft to follow thy advice.

Tat. I'll fit you with a husband in a trice.
Here's Rigdum-Funidos, a proper man;
If any one can please a queen, he can.

[Simpering

Rig. Ay that I can, pleafe your Majefty: fo cere monies apart, let's proceed to the business.

Kifles the Queen.

Queen. Oh, but the mourning takes up all my care;

I'm at a lofs what colour'd weeds to wear.

Rig. O Madam, never talk of mourning; One ounce of mirth is worth a pound of forrow: Let's bed to-night, and then we'll wed to-morrow. I'll make thee a great man, my little Phofcophorny. [Afide to Aldib.

Ald. I fcorn thy bounty; I'll be king or nothing: Draw, mifcreant, draw. [Rig. runs behind the Queen, Queen. Well, gentlemen, to make the matter eafy, I'll have you both; and that, I hope, will pleafe ye. [Takes each by the hand. And now, Tatlanthe, thou art all my care; Where fhall I find thce fuch another pair? Pity that one has ferv'd fo long, fo well, Should die a virgin, and lead apes in hell. Choose for yourself, dear girl, our empire round, Your portion is twelve hundred thousand pound. Tat. Thanks to your Majefty; give me the money, Let me alone to find myself a honey.

Tatlanthe fings.

Marriage may become a curse,
Husbands may but teaze me;
So for better or for worfe

No husband fhall e'er feize me.
Changing, ranging, at my pleasure,
Men in plenty for my treasure;
I myself will keep the purse,
And pay them as they please me.

Queen fings.

Treth, my girl, thou'rt in the right,
And thy scheme I'll borrow;
'Tis a thought that's new and bright;
Wedlock brings but forrow.

To Aldib. and Rigdum.
Gentlemen, I'm not for marriage;
But according to your carriage,
As you both behave to-night,
You shall be paid to-morrow:

EPILOGUE.

CUSTOM commands that something I fhould fay
In favour of the poet and the play.

Critics, on you our author does depend;

Be you bis champion, and his caufe defend.
Yet know his drift, if wrong-heads fhall misplace it,
I'm bid to fay, Qui capit, ille facit.
-Whate'er you pleafe to cenfure or correct,
We ball attend with pleasure and respect.
But to our failings fome indulgence give,
And with one gen'rous plaudit bid it live

NECK

I

ACT I.

SCENE, Aftreet.

Enter MARTIN.

AM fick as a dog of being a valet!-running after other people's bufinefs and neglecting my ownThis low life is the devil!-I've had a taste of the gentleman, and shall never lofe it. 'Tis thy own fault, my little Martin-Thou wouldst always play fmall games; when, had you but had the face to put yourself forward a little, fome well jointur'd widow had taken you into her poft chariot, and made your fortune at once, A fellow of my wit and fpirit fhould have broke twice and fet up again by this time.

Enter Slip.

Slip. Hey is not that that rafcal Martin yonder?

Mar.