University of Virginia Library

Scene Fifth.

—The King's Palace, as before.
Enter King through arch.
King.
To be, or not to be? that is the question,
Which long ere this he's popped for her digestion,
Tell me, thou little oracle of love,
(producing a dandelion)
Tell me, if she I prize the world above,
From fortune's wheel to my blest lot will fall.
She loves me— (blows)
—just a little— (blows)
not at all.
That's awkward! am I doomed to live and linger?
Come what, come may! I'll ask my little finger!
Oh, little finger, mind you tell me true.
Will my fair one, by Graceful, be brought to?
Yes—no—yes—no—yes! oh, supreme delight,
I feel my little finger's in the right.
(shouts and flourish without)
Hark to those shouts! those trumpets! and those drums!
Enter Viscount Verysoso and Count Pleniposo.
She comes! my Lucidora! say she comes!

Count.
She does, my liege!

King.
I knew she could not fail.
“Talk of the”—hem! the proverb's coarse and stale.

Count.
(half aside)
I hope 'tis not prophetic.

King.
Eh! you spoke?

Count.
Nothing, my liege—or if, I did but joke.

King.
Joke! take care how you joke in such a case,
Or, like your joke, you may be out of place.

Enter Courtiers, after which Graceful, leading Lucidora and followed by her Suite.
Grace.
Great King, the lady of your love behold;
She's yours, the Fair One, with the Locks of Gold!

Vis.
(aside)
For locks, read lots, and I should like it better.

King.
Oh, Graceful, I shall ever be your debtor.
Madam, I'm dazzled by your beauty bright;
One eye is Bude's, the other Boccius' light!
Permit me, madam (kisses her)
; oh, conserve of roses!
What lips! and there's a nose, to put all noses
For ever out of joint! and oh, that hair!
Made of light gold!

Count.
(aside)
As our last sovereigns were.

King.
But wherefore silent stands my dearest deary?

Queen.
My journey, sir, has made me faint and weary.

King.
Walk in—sit down—bed-chamber woman, ho!
Enter Mollymopsa through arch.
Your mistress to her own apartments shew.
Ring when you're ready for the cold collation—
To-morrow, sweet, shall see your coronation.

Queen.
E'en when you please, since you will have it so.
Dear Graceful! take care of the bottle though.

Exeunt Mollymopsa first—Lucidora, Suite and Courtiers follow through arch.
King.
Bottle! what bottle?

Grace.
Sir, to speak the truth,
'Tis an elixir, which eternal youth
And beauty to the drinker gives.

King.
The deuce!

Grace.
'Tis for her Majesty's especial use.
But, notwithstanding it was so declared,
To stop it at the Custom House they've dared.

King.
A drink, to give eternal youth and beauty!
What sum could pay the ad valorem duty?
Tell them to pass the bottle, and not tap it;
I know their customs, rogues! but they shall nap it.
(Exit Graceful)
I'll ask the Queen if she a drop can spare one.

Count.
My royal lord—

King.
Well.

Count.
When you wed the Fair One
Will Graceful stay at Court?

King.
Of course, you flat!

Count.
Indeed!

King.
Indeed! zounds, what d'ye mean by that?
Is he not honest?

Count.
Honest!

King.
Ay!

Count.
Don't know.

King.
But what d'ye think?

Count.
Think!

King.
Here's a precious go!
Repeat my words again, I'll knock you down.
Tell me your thoughts, sir.

Count.
Not for half-a-crown!

King.
Ha, there's some screw loose, then. Why, dash my wig!

Count.
Beware, my lord, of jealousy!

King.
I twig.

Count.
Mind, I say nothing, sir, I only hint.
Look to your wife—if she at Graceful squint,
Just mind your eye—you heard her call him “dear.”

King.
And so she did.

Count.
I own I thought that queer.
But I'm too bold—

King.
I hope she's not been bolder;
If so, I'll make the house too hot to hold her.

Count.
And Graceful?

King.
Seize and drag him to a prison.
I'll teach the rogue to prig what isn't his'n!
Harkye, you've seen, if you have any eyes,
Upon my table, stuff to kill the flies.

Count.
The German fly-water.

King.
Exactly so.
When he's in prison, with that bottle go,
Give him a dose of it upon the sly.

Count.
That will be murder—

King.
Never mind.

Count.
Not I.
My friend is dead—'tis done at your request.
But let her live.

King.
Perhaps that would be best.

Duo—King and Count—“La ci darem la mano.”
Count.
“La ci darem la mano,”
Which means your fist tip me;
You know I can't say “Ah, no”
To you, your Majesty.

King.
Politic Pleniposo,
I'm easy on that score,
But frail my spouse to know so!
It cuts me to the core.

Count.
Her voice is all falsetto.

King.
Each word's a sharp stiletto!

Count.
He would your life cut short—

King.
I
Wish he of lives had forty!

Count.
Piano!—

King.
Forty!—
I'd take 'em one by one, O!
And to prolong the fun, O!
Each dying scene encore!

King.
(Together.)
I'd take 'em, &c.

Count.
(Together.)
He'd take 'em, &c.

Count.
He comes.

King.
My guards.

Enter Guards, Chamberlain, Courtiers, Mollymopsa, Lucidora, and Suite.
Count.
(aside)
O, vengeance!

(Exit)
Vis.
What's the row?

Grace.
(to Lucidora)
I've cleared the bottle.

King.
Clear yourself, then.

Grace.
How?

King.
To prison with him, since he can't reply.

Grace.
What have I done?

King.
What can that signify?
Hence with him—stay, give me that bottle first.

Queen.
What is he guilty of? I'll know the worst.

King.
You take uncommon interest in his fate.
Perhaps you love him?

Queen.
Much as you I hate.

All.
O, rash confession!

Queen.
You're a tyrant!—he
The very nicest young man that can be!

Ensemble—King, Queen, Graceful, and Court—“Pen and Ink Polka.”
King.
Here's a go! Treason ho!
Let the doors be locked all!

Ladies and Gents.
Lack-a-day! well-a-way!
We're extremely shocked all!

King.
Seize the wretch! Let Jack Ketch
Take him by the throttle!

(Guards seize Graceful)
Grace.
Of this precious bottle
Somebody take care.

(Mollymopsa takes it from him)
Queen.
Tyrant, hold! My locks of gold
I'll cut and sell to pay his ransom!

Grace.
Madam, don't! I beg you won't!
My life is hanging by that hair.

King.
She would shave her head to save
That traitor's whom she think's so handsome.
Dread my wrath!

Queen.
Oh, go to Bath,
And get your head shaved there!

King and Court.
Here's a go, &c.
Lack-a-day, &c.

King.
He shall swing, on a string,
Without judge or jury.
Tremble at my fury!
I'm as savage as a bear!

Queen and Grace.
Why, sir, all this fury, pray? He's/I'm innocent, swear!

Guards drag Graceful off—Lucidora is carried off, fainting —Mollymopsa runs out with the bottle.
King.
She owns she loves him—I shall choke with rage;
To a great king prefer a paltry page.
Haply, for I take snuff, she thinks me dirty;
Or, for I'm on the shady side of thirty.
But that's not much, I'm only thirty-four.
Ha! the elixir, that can youth restore!
One draught will make me quite a boy again,
And my face handsome, were it even plain.
They've placed it in her dressing-room, no doubt;
Suppose I just steal in when she comes out.
But then suppose she hasn't drawn the cork,
Well, can't I get a corkscrew or a fork?
As if to broach a pint of Allsop's pale.
This deed I'll do before this purpose fail.

(Exit)