Then nods and snores again: If this be sleep, Tell me, ye gods! what mortal man's awake? What says my friend to this?

?

Rig-Fun. Say! I say he sleeps dog sleep:
What a plague would you have me say
Aldi. O impious thought! O cursed insinu-
ation!

As if great Chrononhotonthologos,
To animals detestible and vile,
Had aught the least similitude!

Rig-Fun. My dear friend, you entirely misapprehend me: I did not call the king dog by craft; I was only going to tell you, that the soidiers have just now received their pay, and are all as drunk as so many swabbers.

Aldi. Give orders instantly, that no more mo

Enter RIGDUM and ALDI BORONTI.

Rig. The king is in a most cursed passion! Pray who the devil is this Mr. Somnus, he's so angry withal?

Aldi. The son of Chaos and of Erebus, Incestrous pair! brother of Mors relentless, Whose speckled robe, and wings of blackest hue, Astonish all mankind with bideous glare; Himself with sable plumes, to men benevolent, Brings downy slumbers, and refreshing sleep.

Rig. This gentleman may come of a very good family, for aught I know; but I would not be in his place for the world.

Aldi. But lo! the king, his footsteps this way bending.

His cogitative faculties immersed,
In cogibundity of cogitation:

Let silence close our folding doors of speech,
Till apt attention tell our heart the purport
Of this profound profundity of thought.

Enter King, Nobles, and Attendants, &c. King. It is resolved- -Now Somnus, I defy thee,

And from mankind ampute thy cursed dominion.
These royal eyes thou never more shall close.
Henceforth let no man sleep, on pain of death:
Instead of sleep, let pompous pageantry
Keep all mankind eternally awake.
Bid Harlequino decorate the stage
With all magnificence of decoration:
Giants and giantesses, dwarfs and pygmies,
Songs, dances, music in its amplest order,
Mimes, pantomimes, and all the mimic motion
Of scene deceptiosive and sublime.

[The flat scene draws. The King is seated,
and a grand pantomime entertainment
is performed, in the midst of which,
ters a Captain of the Guard.

Capt. To arms! to arms! great Chrononhotonthologos!

The Antipodean powers, from realms below,
Have burst the solid entrails of the earth;
Gushing such cataracts of forces forth,
This world is too incopious to contain them:
Armies on armies march, in form stupendous;
Not like our earthly regions, rank by rank,
But tier o'er tier, high piled from earth to
heaven

A blazing bullet, bigger than the sun,
Shot from a huge and moustrous culverin,
Has laid your royal citadel in ashes.

King. Peace, coward! were they wedged like golden ingots,

Or pent so close, as to admit no vacuum,
One look from Chrononhotonthologos
Shall scare them into nothing. Rigdum-Funni-
dos,

Bid Bombardinian draw his legions forth,
And meet us in the plains of Queerummania.
This very now ourselves shall their conjoin him:
Mean time bid all the priests prepare their tem-
ples

For rites of triumph: Let the singing singers,
With vocal voices, most vociferous,

In sweet vociferation, out-vociferize Even sound itself. So be it as we have ordered. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A magnificent apartment.

Enter QUEEN, TATLANTHE, and two Ladies.

Queen. Day's curtain's drawn, the morn begins

to rise,

And waking nature rubs her sleepy eyes:
The pretty little fleecy bleating flocks
In baa's harmonious warble through the rocks:
Night gather 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 ?
Tat. Your majesty was pleased to order tea,
Queen. My mind is altered; bring some ratifia.
[They are served round with a dram.
I have a famous fiddler here from France.
Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance?

Enter Fiddler,

Fid. Thus to your majesty, says the suppliant

muse.

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!

LOGOS, guards and attendants, &c. met by RIGDUM-FUNNIDOS and ALDI BORONTIPHOS

COPHORNIO.

ther!

Queen. Away! you flatter me.

1st. Lady. We don't indeed:

Your merit does our praise by far exceed.

to a fan.

Rig. Egad, we're in the wrong box! Who the devil would have thought that Chrononhotonthologos should be at that mortal sight of Tippodeans? Why there's not a mother's child of them to be seen! 'egad they footed it away as fast as their hands could carry them; but they have left their king behind them. We have him safe, that's one comfort.

Aldi. Would he were still at amplest liberty!
For, oh my dearest Rigdum Funnidos,
I have a riddle to unriddle to thee,
Shall make thee stare thyself into a statue.
Our queen's in love with this Antipodean.
Rig. The devil she is! Well, I see mischief
is a going forward with a vengeance!
Aldi. But lo! the conqueror comes, all crown-
ed with conquest;

A solemn triumph graces his return.
Let's grasp the forelock of this apt occasion,
To greet the victor in his flow of glory.

Which shall with interest, be repaid ere long. But where's our queen? where's Fadladinida? She should be foremost in this gladsome train, To grace our triumph; but I see she slights me. This haughty queen shall be no longer mine, I'll have a sweet and gentle concubine.

Rig. Now my dear little Phorscophorny, for a swinging lie to bring the queen off, and I'll run with it to her this minute, that we may all be in a say, Say she has got the thorough-go-nimble. [Whispers, and steals off. Aldi. Speak not, great Chrononhotonthologos, In accents so injuriously severe, Of Fadladinida, your faithful queen : By me she sends an embassy of love. Sweet blandishments, and kind congratulations, But, cannot, Oh! she cannot come herself. King. Our rage is turned to fear: What ails the queen?

Aldi. A sudden diarrhæa's rapid force
So stimulates the peristaltic motion,
That she by far out-does her late out-doing,
And all conclude her royal life in danger.

King. Bid the physicians of the world assemble
In consultation, solemn and sedate:
More to corroborate their sage resolves,
Call from their graves the learned men of old:
Galen, Hippocrates, and Paracelsus :
Doctors, apothecaries, surgeons, chemists,
All, all attend and see they bring their medicines;
Whole magazines of galli-potted nostrums
Materialized in pharmaceutic order!
The man that cures our queen shall have our
empire.
[Exeunt.

Tat. Can I guess what, unless you tell, my queen?

Queen. The king, I mean?

Tat. Just now returned from war, He rides like Mars in his triumphal car. Conquest precedes, with laurels in his hand; Behind him Fame does on her tripos stand; Her golden trump shrill through the air she sounds,

Which rends the earth, and thence to Heaven rebounds;

Trophies and spoils innumerable grace

This triumph, which all triumphs does deface: Haste then, great queen! your hero thus to meet, Who longs to lay his laurels at your feet.

Queen. Art mad, Tatlanthe? I meant no such thing.

Your talk's distasteful.

Tat. Didn't you name the king?

Queen. I did, Tatlanthe, but it was not thine; The charming king I mean, is only mine.

Tat. Who else, who else, but such a charming fair,

In Chrononhotonthologos should share?
The queen of beauty, and the god of arms,
In him and you united, blend their charms.
Oh! had you seen him, how he dealt out death,
And, at one stroke, robbed thousands of their
breath:

While on the slaughtered heaps himself did rise,
In pyramids of conquest to the skies:

The gods all hailed, and fain would have him stay; But your bright charms have called him thence

away.

Queen. This does my utmost indignation raise:
You are too pertly lavish in his praise.
Leave me for ever! [TATLANTHE kneeling.
Tat. Oh! what shall I say?

Do not, great queen, your anger thus display!
O frown me dead! let me not live to hear
My gracious queen and mistress so severe !
I've made some horrible mistake, no doubt!
Oh! tell me what it is?

Queen. No, find it out.

Tat. No, I will never leave you here I'll grow,

Till you some token of forgiveness show: Oh! all ye powers above, come down, come down!

And from her brow dispel that angry frown. Queen. Tatlanthe, rise; you have prevailed at last:

Offend no more, and I'll excuse what's past. [TATLANTHE aside, rising. Tat. Why, what a fool was I, not to perceive her passion for the topsy-turvy king, the gentleman that carries his head where his heels should be? But I must tack about I see.

[To the QUEEN. Excuse me, gracious madam! if my heart Bears sympathy with your's in every part; With you alike I sorrow and rejoice, Approve your passion, and commend your choice; The captive king

Command your freedom, by this sacred ring;

SCENE IV.-BOMBARDINIAN'S tent.

king?

[She puts the ring in his mouth, he bends the sea-crab, and makes a roaring noise. Queen. What can this mean! he lays his feet

at mine,

Is this of love or hate his country's sign? Ah! wretched queen! how hapless is thy lot, To love a man that understands thee not! Oh! lovely Venus, goddess all divine! And gentle Cupid, that sweet son of thine, Assist, assist sacred art, with me, your And teach me to obtain this stranger's heart.

Venus and Cupid descend in her chariot, and

ladies.

Bom. This honour, royal sir, so royalizes The royalty of your most royal actions, The dumb can only utter forth your praise; For we, who speak, want words to tell our meaning.

good news,

Gilly flower, &c.

What woman alive would such favours refuse? While the dew, &c.

Here! fill the goblet with Phalernian wine, And, while our monarch drinks, bid the shrill trumpet

Tell all the gods, that we propine their healths. King. Hold, Bombardinian! I esteem it fit, With so much wine, to eat a little bit.

Bom. See that the table instantly be spread, With all that art and nature can produce. Traverse from pole to pole; sail round the globe, Bring every eatable that can be eat;

The king shall eat, though all mankind be starved.

Cook. I am afraid his majesty will be starved, before I can run round the world for a dinner; besides, where's the money?

King. Ha! dost thou prattle, contumacious

slave?

Guards, seize the villain! broil him, fry him, stew him;

Ourselves shall eat him out of mere revenge.

Cook. O, pray your majesty spare my life; there's some nice cold pork in the pautry: I'll bash it for your majesty in a minute.

Chron. Be thou first hashed in hell, audacious slave!

[Kills him, and turns to BOMBARDINIAN. Hashed pork! shall Chrononhotonthologos Be fed with swine's flesh, and at second-hand? Now, by the gods, thou dost insult us, general! Bom. The gods can witness, that I little thought

Your majesty to other flesh than this
Had aught the least propensity.

[Points to the ladies. King. Is this a dinner for a hungry monarch? Bomb. Monarchs as great as Chrononhoton

thologos,

Have made a very hearty meal of worse.

King. Ha! Traitor! dost thou brave me to my

teeth?