_King._ The sapient Doctor Muggins came in haste, Who suits his physic to his patient's taste; He, knowing well on what our heart is set, Hath just prescrib'd, "To take a morning whet;" The very sight each sick'ning pain subdues. Then sit, my Fusbos, sit and tell thy news. _Fusbos_ [_sits._] Gen'ral Bombastes, whose resistless force Alone exceeds by far a brewer's horse, Returns victorious, bringing mines of wealth! _King._ Does he, by jingo? then we'll drink his health! [_Drum and Fife._ _Fusbos._ But hark! with loud acclaim, the fife and drum Announce your army near; behold, they come! _Enter_ BOMBASTES, _attended by one_ DRUMMER, _one_ FIFER, _and two_ SOLDIERS, _all very materially differing in size.--They march round the stage and back_. _Bombas._ Meet me this ev'ning at the Barley Mow; I'll bring your pay--you see I'm busy now: Begone, brave army, and don't kick up a row. [_Exeunt_ SOLDIERS. [_To the_ KING.] Thrash'd are your foes--this watch and silken string, Worn by their chief, I as a trophy bring; I knock'd him down, then snatch'd it from his fob; "Watch, watch," he cried, when I had done the job. "My watch is gone," says he--says I, "Just so; Stop where you are--watches were made to go." _King._ For which we make you Duke of Strombelo. [BOMBASTES _kneels; the_ KING _dubs him with a pipe, and then presents the bowl_. From our own bowl here drink, my soldier true, And if you'd like to take a whiff or two, He whose brave arm hath made our foes to crouch, Shall have a pipe from this our royal pouch. _Bombas._ [_rises._] Honours so great have all my toils repaid! My liege, and Fusbos, here's "Success to trade". _Fusbos._ Well said, Bombastes! Since thy mighty blows, Have given a quietus to our foes, Now shall our farmers gather in their crops, And busy tradesmen mind their crowded shops The deadly havoc of war's hatchet cease; Now shall we smoke the calumet of peace. _King._ I shall smoke short-cut, you smoke what you please. _Bombas._ Whate'er your Majesty shall deign to name, Short cut or long to me is all the same. _Bombas._ } In short, so long, as we your favours claim, and } Short cut or long, to us is all the same. _Fusbos._ } _King._ Thanks, gen'rous friends! now list whilst I impart How firm you're lock'd and bolted in my heart; So long as this here pouch a pipe contains, Or a full glass in that there bowl remains, To you an equal portion shall belong; This do I swear, and now--let's have a song. _Fusbos._ My liege shall be obeyed. [_Advances and attempts to sing._