 | Doctor Bolus |  |
SCENE VII.
An Apartment in the Palace—Enter Mopsa and Poggylina.Mopsa.
The morn is overcast, the sun looks sad;
It pours of rain—her Majesty is mad:
She'll hop the twig.
Poggy.
'Twere better that she should!
'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good.
Mopsa.
Ill wind! what does my Poggylina mean?
Poggy.
That, Mopsa, I shall probably be queen!
The King declar'd he'd wed me, could he doff her.
Mopsa.
Last Saturday he made me, too, an offer!
Poggy.
Faith, that's a good one! you have ta'en the wrong Beau.
Mopsa.
You, Poggylina, you have drawn the long bow.
17
(Tune—“Out of my Sight, or I'll box your Ears.”)
Poggy.
Out of my sight, or I'll box your ears!
Mopsa.
I'll fit you, Ma'am, for your gibes and jeers!
Poggy.
I'll cock my cap, for all you, at the King—
Mopsa.
Then I'll pull it off if you do such a thing.
Poggy.
I should like—Odd rat it!
To catch you at it;
I'd claw your cheeks, and I'd damage your paint!
Mopsa.
Tho' you look so demure, you are not quite a Saint,
But a pert little Hussey, hang me if you an't!
Enter King Artipadiades.
King.
To end this sad disturbance, on my oath,
Should the Queen prove defunct, I'll wed ye both.
Enter Queen Katalinda, mad.
AIR.—Queen.
(Tune—“Last Night, a little bowsy.”)
Last night, while sitting solus,
Of Scaramoucho thinking;
Comes little Doctor Bolus,
Who look'd as he'd been drinking;
Of Scaramoucho thinking;
Comes little Doctor Bolus,
Who look'd as he'd been drinking;
When down he knelt,
My pulse he felt,
Ah! little then a rat I smelt!
He swore he rid
Along, to bid
Good morning to my Nightcap!
My pulse he felt,
Ah! little then a rat I smelt!
He swore he rid
Along, to bid
Good morning to my Nightcap!
Queen.
I'm dead and buried, though they say I'm not;
Poor Scaramoucho, too, he's gone to pot!
You'll break my heart—peace, trembler!—how it jumps!
I've shuffled—four by honours—spades are trumps!
AIR.—Queen.
(Tune.—“Jolly Dick, the Lamplighter.”)
Peter Quill, the Scrivener,
Whose Dad in Chancery pleads,
Was shipp'd one day to Botany Bay,
For forging title deeds.
Peter Quill, the Scrivener,
Whose Dad in Chancery pleads,
Was shipp'd one day to Botany Bay,
For forging title deeds.
18
Poor fellow! he was comical and rum too:
No matter; it is what we all must come to!
Enter Scaramoucho.
Scara.
O piteous sight—speak, Katalinda fair!
[She stares him full in the face.
Mute as a mack'rel—mad as a March hare!
King.
This to my face! haste, you audacious brute O,
To Styx! and give my compliments to Pluto.
[Stabs Scaramoucho.
Scara.
I'm dish'd—O murder! Katalinda, fly!
Oh! I can live no longer; so I'll die.
[Dies.
Queen.
My Lover kill'd! my beautiful brave Lad!
I'm craz'd already—soon I shall be mad!
(Tune.—“For Robin, sweet Robin, was all my Joy”)
For sweet Scaramoucho was all my joy.
[Sings.
In war how brave he was, in peace how gracious!
Did ever hero boast such long mustachios?
His martial beaver—now my phrenzy stirs!
And—that way madness lies!—his boots and spurs!
But now he's finish'd; thus I pay my thanks—
Take that, my Maids of Honour, for your pranks!
[Stabs Mopsa and Poggylina.
Poggy.
We die!—
Mopsa.
Tip it the Queen!
King.
Sweet maids, I will—
A dagger's quicker med'cine than a pill.
[Stabs the Queen.
Queen.
Ah!
Who calls on Katalinda?—see, I'm beckon'd!
I'll come, my Scaramoucho, in a second.
It grows quite dark; my eyes are dim—good bye!
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
King.
So say I!
And now, to end the plot, as life's a bubble,
I'll kill myself, to save all further trouble!
[Stabs himself.
Enter Doctor Bolus.
Bolus.
Death has been playing here a trick most scurvy:
Kings, Queens, and Maids of Honour, topsy-turvy!
[The King blows his nose.
19
Your Majesty is no more dead than I am!
And you, Queen Katalinda, rise with speed,
Poison in jest, I meant—I did indeed!
I'll rouse these Maids of Honour, or belabour 'em;
Mopsa and Poggylina, don't sham Abr'am!
Brave Scaramoucho, stir your stumps, my hearty!
We want your presence to complete the party.
[They all rise.
FINALE.
(Tune.—“Never think of meeting Sorrow.”)
King.
Just escap'd from Charon's ferry,
Anger's useless, bick'ring's vain;
Let's be all alive and merry,
Loudly chaunt a jovial strain!
Anger's useless, bick'ring's vain;
Let's be all alive and merry,
Loudly chaunt a jovial strain!
Singing Fal, lal, &c. &c.
Queen.
Spousy, with my Maids of Honour
Don't be seen to toy and kiss;
Poggylina, fie upon her!
Mopsa, she's a romping miss!
Don't be seen to toy and kiss;
Poggylina, fie upon her!
Mopsa, she's a romping miss!
Singing Fal, lal, &c.
Poggy.
Is it right, that, in a frolic,
Pot should call the kettle black?
Mopsa.
Certain Queens, who've got the cholic,
Should be mum, and hold their clack.
Should be mum, and hold their clack.
Singing Fal, lal, &c.
Scara.
Doctor Bolus, prithee stop, Sir;
Do not on my manor poach.
Bolus.
Will you marry me, fair Mopsa?
Answer, and I'll call a coach!
Answer, and I'll call a coach!
Singing Fal, lal, &c.
The Piece concludes with a Dance.
| Doctor Bolus | |