University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

—A Wood.
Enter Fusbos.
Fus.
This day is big with fate: just as I set
My foot across the threshold, lo! I met
A man whose squint terrific struck my view;
Another came, and, lo! he squinted too:
And ere I'd reach'd the corner of the street.
Some ten short paces, 'twas my lot to meet
A third who squinted more—a fourth, and he
Squinted more vilely than the other three.
Such omens met the eye when Cæsar fell,
But caution'd him in vain; and who can tell
Whether those awful notices of fate
Are meant for Kings, or Ministers of State?
For rich or poor, old, young, or short or tall,
The wrestler Love trips up the heels of all.
SONG,—My Lodging is on the cold Ground.
[Exit.

Enter Bombastes, preceded by a Fifer, playing “Michael Wiggins.”
Bom.
Gentle musician, let thy dulcet strain
Proceed—play Michael Wiggins once again,—
Music's the food of love; give o'er, give o'er,
For I must batten on that food no more.
My happiness is chang'd to doleful dumps,
Whilst, merry Michael, all thy cards were trumps.
So, should some youth by fortune's blest decrees
Possess at least a pound of Cheshire cheese,
And bent some favour'd party to regale,
Lay in a kilderkin, or so, of ale;
Lo! angry fate, in one unlucky hour
Some hungry rats may all the cheese devour,
And the loud thunder turn the liquor sour.
[Forms his sash into a noose.
Alas! alack! alack! and well-a-day,
That ever man should make himself away;
That ever man for woman false should die,
As many have, and so, and so—wont I;
No, I'll go mad! 'gainst all I'll vent my rage,
And with this wicked wanton world a woful war I'll wage.
[Hangs his boots to the arm of a tree, and, taking a scrap of paper, with a pencil writes the following couplet, which he attaches to them, repeating the words
“Who dares this pair of boots displace,
“Must meet Bombastes face to face.”
Thus do I challenge all the human race.

[Draws his sword, and retires up the stage.
Enter Artaxominous.
Art.
Scorning my proffer'd hand he frowning fled,
Curs'd the fair maid, and shook his angry head.
[Perceives the boots and label.
“Who dares this pair of boots displace,
“Must meet Bombastes face to face.”
Ha! dost thou dare me, vile obnoxious elf;
I'll make thy threats as bootless as thyself:
Where'er thou art, with speed prepare to go
Where I shall send thee—to the shades below!

[Knocks down the boots.
Bom.
(coming forward)
So have I heard on Afric's burning shore,
A hungry lion give a grievous roar;
The grievous roar echo'd along the shore.

Art.
So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
Another lion give a grievous roar,
And the first lion thought the last a bore.

Bom.
Am I then mock'd? Now by my fame I swear
You shall soon have it—There!

[They fight.
Art.
Where?

Bom.
There and there.

Art.
I have it sure enough—Oh! I am slain,
I'd give a pot of beer to live again;
Yet, ere I die, I something have to say:
My once lov'd Gen'ral, prithee come this way!
Oh! Oh! my Bom—

[Falls on his back.
Bom.
bastes he would have said;
But ere the word was out his breath was fled.
Well, peace be with him, his untimely doom
Shall thus be mark'd upon his costly tomb:—
“Fate cropt him short—for be it understood,
“He would have liv'd much longer—if he could.”

[Retires again up the stage.
Enter Fusbos.
Fus.
This was the way they came, and much, I fear,
There's mischief in the wind—what have we here?
King Artaxominous bereft of life!
Here'll be a pretty tale to tell his wife.

Bom.
A pretty tale, but not for thee to tell,
For thou shalt quickly follow him to hell;
There say I sent thee, and I hope he's well.

Fus.
No, thou thyself shalt thy own message bear;
Short is the journey, thou wilt soon be there.

[They fight.
DUETT.—Weippert's Fancy.
Bom.
‘I'll quickly run you through,

Fus.
‘No hang me if you do,
‘I think I know a trick can equal two of that;
‘My sword I well can use,
‘So mind your Ps and Qs:

Bom.
‘I thank you, Sir, but I must caution you of that.

(Lord Cathcart's Favourite).
Fus.
‘'Tis a pleasure to fight
‘With a man so polite,
‘Then hear in return what I'll do, Sir;
‘I'll take down aught you'll say
‘In the will-making way,
‘And be your Executor too, Sir.

Bom.
‘O, Sir, there's no need
‘For so friendly a deed,
‘But I hope for yourself you're provided;
‘Since your worldly affairs
‘Will devolve to your heirs,
‘As soon as the point is decided,
‘Then come on while you can,
‘Meet your fate like a man—
‘Bombastes shall ne'er be derided.”

Bom.
O Fusbos, Fusbos, I am diddled quite,
Dark clouds come o'er my eyes, farewell, good night!
Good night! my mighty soul's inclin'd to roam,
So make my compliments to all at home.

[Lies down by the King.
Fus.
And o'er thy grave a monument shall rise,
Where heroes yet unborn shall feast their eyes;
And this short Epitaph that speaks thy fame,
Shall also there immortalize my name:—
“Here lies Bombastes stout of heart and limb,
“Who conquer'd all but Fusbos—Fusbos him.”

Enter Distaffina.
Dis.
Ah, wretched maid! O miserable fate!
I've just arriv'd in time to be too late:
What now shall hapless Distaffina do?
Curse on all morning dreams, they come so true.

Fus.
Go, beauty, go, thou source of woe to man,
And get another lover where you can:
The crown now sits on Griskinnissa's head;
To her I'll go—

Dis.
But are you sure they're dead?

Fus.
Yes, dead as herrings—herrings that are red.

FINALE.
Dis.
Briny tears I'll shed,

Art.
I for joy shall cry too;

Fus.
Zounds! the King's alive;

Bom.
Yes, and so am I too.

Dis.
It was better far

Art.
Thus to check all sorrow;

Fus.
But, if some folks please,

Bom.
We'll die again to-morrow.

Dis.
Tu ral, lu ral, la,

Art.
Tu ral, lu ral, laddi;

Fus.
Tu ral, lu ral, la,

Bom.
Tu ral, lu ral, laddi.

[They take hands and dance round, repeating tu ral, &c.