The Tragedy of Chrononhotonthologos Being The most Tragical Tragedy, that ever was Tragediz'd by any Company of Tragedians |
 | The Tragedy of Chrononhotonthologos |  |
SCENE a magnificent Apartment.
Enter Queen Fadladinida, Tatlanthe, and two Ladies.
Queen.
—Day's Curtain drawn, the Morn begins to rise,
And waking Nature rubs her sleepy Eyes.
The pretty little fleecy bleating Flocks,
In Baa'as harmonious warble thro' the Rocks:
Night gathers up her Shades in sable Shrouds,
And whispering Oziers tattle to the Clouds.
What think you, Ladies, if an Hour we kill,
At Basset, Ombre, Picquet or Quadrille.
Titlanthe
—Your Majesty was pleas'd to order Tea.
Queen.
—My Mind is alter'd Bring some Ratafia.
They are serv'd round with a Dram.
I have a famous Fidler sent from France,
Bid him come in, What think ye of a Dance?
Enter King of the Fidlers.
—Thus to your Majesty says the suppliant Muse:
Wou'd you a Solo, or Sonata chuse
Or bold Concerto, or soft Siciliana,
Alla Francese overo in Gusto Romano?
When you Command, 'tis done as soon as spoke.
Queen.
A civil Fellow!—play us the Black Joak.
(Queen and Ladies Dance the Black Joak,
So much for Dancing; now lets rest a while.
Bring in the Tea-Things, does the Kettle boil?
Tatlanthe.
—The Water bubbles and the Tea-Cups skip.
Through eager Hope to kiss your Royal Lip.
(Tea brought in.
Queen.
—Come Ladies, will you please to chuse your Tea;
Or Green Imperial, or Pekoe Bohea?
1st Lady.
—Never, no, never sure on Earth was seen,
So gracious, sweet and affable a Queen.
2d Lady.
—She is an Angel.
1st Lady.
—She's a Goddess rather.
Tatlanthe.
She's Angel, Queen, and Goddess altogether.
Queen.
—Away! you Flatter me.
1st Lady.
—We don't indeed,
Your Merit does our Praise by far exceed.
Queen.
—You make me blush: Pray help me to a Fan.
1st Lady.
—That Blush becomes you.
Tatlanthe.
—Wou'd I were a Man.
Queen.
I'll hear no more of this as I'm a Sinner.
[Enter Dumb Master of the Ceremonies, makes Signs of Eating.
Dear me! that's true, I never thought of Dinner:
But 'twill be over Ladies very soon,
Mean time, my Friend, play t'other little Tune.
Musick plays, they all Dance off.
Enter Queen Fadladinida, Tatlanthe, and two Ladies.
Queen.
—Day's Curtain drawn, the Morn begins to rise,
And waking Nature rubs her sleepy Eyes.
14
In Baa'as harmonious warble thro' the Rocks:
Night gathers up her Shades in sable Shrouds,
And whispering Oziers tattle to the Clouds.
What think you, Ladies, if an Hour we kill,
At Basset, Ombre, Picquet or Quadrille.
Titlanthe
—Your Majesty was pleas'd to order Tea.
Queen.
—My Mind is alter'd Bring some Ratafia.
They are serv'd round with a Dram.
I have a famous Fidler sent from France,
Bid him come in, What think ye of a Dance?
Enter King of the Fidlers.
—Thus to your Majesty says the suppliant Muse:
Wou'd you a Solo, or Sonata chuse
Or bold Concerto, or soft Siciliana,
Alla Francese overo in Gusto Romano?
When you Command, 'tis done as soon as spoke.
Queen.
A civil Fellow!—play us the Black Joak.
(Queen and Ladies Dance the Black Joak,
So much for Dancing; now lets rest a while.
Bring in the Tea-Things, does the Kettle boil?
Tatlanthe.
—The Water bubbles and the Tea-Cups skip.
Through eager Hope to kiss your Royal Lip.
(Tea brought in.
Queen.
—Come Ladies, will you please to chuse your Tea;
Or Green Imperial, or Pekoe Bohea?
15
—Never, no, never sure on Earth was seen,
So gracious, sweet and affable a Queen.
2d Lady.
—She is an Angel.
1st Lady.
—She's a Goddess rather.
Tatlanthe.
She's Angel, Queen, and Goddess altogether.
Queen.
—Away! you Flatter me.
1st Lady.
—We don't indeed,
Your Merit does our Praise by far exceed.
Queen.
—You make me blush: Pray help me to a Fan.
1st Lady.
—That Blush becomes you.
Tatlanthe.
—Wou'd I were a Man.
Queen.
I'll hear no more of this as I'm a Sinner.
[Enter Dumb Master of the Ceremonies, makes Signs of Eating.
Dear me! that's true, I never thought of Dinner:
But 'twill be over Ladies very soon,
Mean time, my Friend, play t'other little Tune.
Musick plays, they all Dance off.
| The Tragedy of Chrononhotonthologos | |