 | Graciosa & Percinet |  |
Scene Eighth.
—A Chamber in the King's Palace as before.Gra.
Oh, Lud! he's broken it to little bits.
I vow you've scared me quite out of my wits.
Per.
Behold, you stand upon your father's floor
On earth; you'll never see my palace more,
Nor me, unless you send for me. Adieu,
And may you find another friend as true.
Air—Percinet—“Cam' ye by Athol?”
On earth; you'll never see my palace more,
Nor me, unless you send for me. Adieu,
And may you find another friend as true.
Can you forget all my vows? They would fill a bag.
Or the Thames Tunnel, from bank to bank, nearly!
Saw you a lad ever fairer or better made,
That you behave to me so very queerly?
Really, really, don't think I'll follow you,
Much as I love you, I tell you now, fairly,
Merely, merely, should grim Death swallow you,
I from a broken heart shall escape barely.
Or the Thames Tunnel, from bank to bank, nearly!
Saw you a lad ever fairer or better made,
That you behave to me so very queerly?
324
Much as I love you, I tell you now, fairly,
Merely, merely, should grim Death swallow you,
I from a broken heart shall escape barely.
Who, let me ask, in the lists cut a figure more
Gallant than him you treat so singularly?
Didn't I floor 'em all, never to snigger more,
Just as the lads used to floor an old Charley?
Really, really, who wouldn't blush for thee,
Were all about us told by Peter Parley?
Clearly, clearly, you don't care a rush for me,
Since to my hopes you put such a finale!
Gallant than him you treat so singularly?
Didn't I floor 'em all, never to snigger more,
Just as the lads used to floor an old Charley?
Really, really, who wouldn't blush for thee,
Were all about us told by Peter Parley?
Clearly, clearly, you don't care a rush for me,
Since to my hopes you put such a finale!
Gra.
Poor Percinet! he's gone in indignation;
“Mens conscia recti!”—that's my consolation.
My father comes—
Enter King.
Sir, at your feet behold me.
King.
Hollo! why you arn't dead, then, as they told me?
Gra.
No, dearest father, I'm alive and merry!
Are you not glad to see me?
King.
Yes, child, very!
But— (seats himself)
Daughter, you have your mother much offended!
Gra.
Father, you have my mother much offended!
King.
Come, come, don't talk in that style—it's high treason!
Gra.
Go, go, you shouldn't give me so much reason!
King.
(rises)
Nay then, I'll ring the bell; and by my crown!—
Gra.
Leave ringing of your bells, and sit you down,
And let me wring your heart!
King.
Why, how now, miss?
Gra.
Look here, upon this picture, and on this—
The counterfeit presentment of two mothers!
This was a face—now only look at t'other's!
King.
It isn't pretty, I confess!
Gra.
Oh, shame,
Where is thy blush?
King.
Perhaps I was to blame!
325
Perhaps!—When of all hearts you lost the queen,
To wed a queen of clubs?—
King.
Diamonds, you mean!
Gra.
A termagant, who makes you, sir, a tool!
To whom you've sold your empire and your rule!
Nay, pawn'd your precious diadem for gold,
To put into your pocket!—
King.
Daughter, hold!
Gra.
A Queen of paint and patches!
Enter Grognon.
Grog.
Hoity, toity!
Who have we here?
King.
(aside)
Odzooks! my better moiety!
Grog.
(aside)
What do I see?—alive!—returned!—provoking!
King.
(To Grognon)
I find, my love, that you were only joking
When you said Graciosa had died recently!
Grog.
I tell you she is dead, and buried decently.
King.
Why here she stands!
Grog.
(aside)
Assist me, cool assurance!
That's not your daughter.
Gra.
This is past endurance;
Then, pray, who am I?
Grog.
An impostor, wretch!
Whom I have tried for a long time to catch.
And now, I have you— (seizing hold of her)
Gra.
(catching hold of King)
Pa, you won't believe her.
Grog.
Dotard! I say fling off that arch deceiver,
Or of my cellar I'll have back the key.
King.
Nay then, I'm quite convinced it is not she.
Duo—“Du-du”—King and Graciosa.
King.
Do, do, whatever you will, ma'am,
(to Grognon)
You, you have behaved very ill, ma'am.
(to Graciosa)
Send her to the treadmill, ma'am,
(to Grognon)
But leave me your wine cellar key.
Gra.
Papa, think of mama! And do not so barbarous be!
326
Pooh! pooh! Pray who are you?
To lecture a monarch like me!
(Exit King)
Grog.
No, not for her the treadmill or the stocks.
Ho! (stamps, enter Attendants)
Bear her to the dungeon with three locks;
Of her fine clothes, which she has stolen, strip her;
And we'll do something worse this time than whip her.
(they drag Graciosa off)
Let's see for means. O mischief, thou art swift
To give a desperate woman a good lift.
I do remember that I bought, at Flint's,
A large skein of white worsted, some years since,
So tangled, none could manage off to wind it.
I've a tub somewhere, too, if I could find it,
So full of feathers of each kind of bird,
That any hope to sort them were absurd.
It shall be so; these tasks at once I'll set her,
And if she fail—that's all I say—just let her.
(Exit)
| Graciosa & Percinet | |