University of Virginia Library

Scene Second.

—Another Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Fortunio and his seven Servants.
For.
Lightfoot, I need not tell you 'tis your part
To beat the Princess.


217

Light.
Give me a fair start—
I'll beat the arrow from friend Marksman's bow.

For.
You'll want a proper dress to run in though.
(stamps—the trunk rises—giving him the key)
Look in the trunk,—you'll find one, I dare say.

Light.
The very thing. (pulling out a scarlet jacket and hose)
Your lordship's colours, pray—


For.
Go hence and dress, for you've no time to waste.

Light.
Sir, if I can make anything, 'tis haste.

(Exit)
Fine.
Sir, may we crave a word?

For.
I'm all attention.

Boist.
Lightfoot has hit upon a rare invention.

For.
What is't?

Fine.
A flying steam coach!

For.
Ha!—indeed!

Strong.
Built on a principle that must succeed.

Marks.
Just like a bird—with body, wings, and tail.

Tip.
Or like a fish—

For.
Aye—very like a whale.

Marks.
You think we're joking, sir.

For.
In truth I do.

Gor.
Sir, it's in print—

For.
Oh—then it must be true,
Or else I should have said, with all humility,
'Twas flying in the face of probability.

Strong.
We've formed a joint-stock company.

For.
So, so.

Strong.
Boisterer can puff off anything, you know.

Boist.
And Strongback carries on the whole affair,
And all the onus will with pleasure bear.

Fine.
Marksman will see the way clear through the sky.

Marks.
And Fine-ear tell folks when the coach is nigh.

For.
Gormand and Tippler?

Strong.
Why, sir, we all think,
As they can nothing do but eat and drink,
They ought to be directors, and together
Meet upon board days, and discuss the weather.

For.
I fear your scheme will end in smoke.


218

Fine.
Aye, so
I heard them say of gas some years ago.

For.
Faith, you're right there, and who on earth shall say
We may not one day skim the milky way?
Still, in these times of quackery and puffing,
The greatest goose may get his fill of stuffing.
Song—Fortunio—Air—“March, March.”
Quack, quack, nothing like quackery,
Humbug, my friends, of the day is the order!
Quack, quack, any gimcrackery
Now will go off with a puff, for the Border.
Pretenders abounding, trumpeters sounding
Every man his own honour and glory;
Truth you're quite right to prize, if you don't wish to rise,
But if you do you must get up a story.
Quack, quack, &c.
Come to the Chambers of Clement's or Gray's Inn,
Come to the Solons who rule in “the Row,”
Come to the ball where the heiress is blazing,
You will find humbug from Bond Street to Bow.
Bills, yellow, green, and red, flutter above your head,
Each of some miracle hangs the recorder;
New projects every day melting your cash away,
Till you're obliged to pop over the Border.
Quack, quack, &c.

(Exeunt)