_Aldi._ But, lo! the king his footsteps this way bending, His cogitative faculties immers'd 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. _Re-enter_ KING, NOBLES, _and_ ATTENDANTS, _&c._ _King._ It is resolv'd. Now, Somnus, I defy thee, And from mankind ampute thy curs'd dominion. These royal eyes thou never more shalt 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 pigmies, Songs, dances, music in its amplest order, Mimes, pantomimes, and all the magic 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 enters a_ CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD. _Capt._ To arms! to arms! great Chrononhotonthologos! Th' antipodean pow'rs from realms below Have burst the solid entrails of the earth; Gushing such cataracts of forces forth, This world is too incopious to contain 'em: Armies on armies, march in form stupendous; Not like our earthly regions, rank by rank, But tier o'er tier, high pil'd from earth to heaven; A blazing bullet, bigger than the sun, Shot from a huge and monstrous culverin, Has laid your royal citadel in ashes. _King._ Peace, coward! were they wedg'd like golden ingots, Or pent so close, as to admit no vacuum; One look from Crononhotonthologos Shall scare them into nothing. Rigdum-Funnidos, Bid Bombardinion draw his legions forth, And meet us in the plains of Queerummania. This very now ourselves shall there conjoin him; Meantime, bid all the priests prepare their temples For rites of triumph: let the singing singers, With vocal voices, most vociferous, In sweet vociferation, outvociferize Ev'n sound itself. So be it as we have order'd. [_Exeunt omnes._ SCENE.--_A magnificent Apartment._ _Enter_ QUEEN, 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 baas harmonious warble thro' the rocks: Night gathers up her shades in sable shrouds, And whispering osiers tattle to the clouds. What think you, ladies, if an hour we kill, At basset, ombre, picquet, or quadrille? _Tat._ Your majesty was pleas'd to order tea. _Queen._ My mind is alter'd; bring some ratifia. [_They are served round with a dram._ I have a famous fiddler sent from France. Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance? _Enter_ FIDDLER.