_King._ He's but a general--damsel, I'm a king; _Distaf._ Oh, sir, that makes it quite another thing. _King._ And think not, maiden, I could e'er design A sum so trifling for such charms as thine. No! the half crown that ting'd thy cheeks with red, And bade fierce anger o'er thy beauties spread, Was meant that thou should'st share my throne and bed. _Distaf._ [_aside._] My dream is out, and I shall soon behold The pots and pans all turn to shining gold. _King_ [_puts his hat down to kneel on._] Here, on my knees (those knees which ne'er till now To man or maid in suppliance bent) I vow Still to remain, till you my hopes fulfil, Fixt as the Monument on Fish Street Hill. _Distaf._ [_kneels._] And thus I swear, as I bestow my hand, As long as e'er the Monument shall stand, So long I'm yours---- _King._ Are then my wishes crown'd? _Distaf._ La, sir! I'd not say no for twenty pound; Let silly maids for love their favours yield, Rich ones for me--a king against the field. SONG.--"_Paddy's Wedding._" Queen Dido at Her palace gate Sat darning of her stocking O; She sung and drew The worsted through, Whilst her foot was the cradle rocking O; (For a babe she had By a soldier lad, Though hist'ry passes it over O); "You tell-tale brat, I've been a flat, Your daddy has proved a rover O. What a fool was I To be cozen'd by A fellow without a penny O; When rich ones came, And ask'd the same, For I'd offers from never so many O; But I'll darn my hose, Look out for beaux, And quickly get a new lover O; Then come, lads, come, Love beats the drum, And a fig for Æneas the rover O." _King._ So Orpheus sang of old, or poets lie, And as the brutes were charmed, e'en so am I. Rosy-cheek'd maid, henceforth my only queen, Full soon shalt thou in royal robes be seen; And through my realm I'll issue this decree, None shall appear of taller growth than thee: Painters no other face portray--each sign O'er alehouse hung shall change its head for thine. Poets shall cancel their unpublish'd lays, And none presume to write but in thy praise. _Distaf._ [_fetches a bottle and glass._] And may I then, without offending, crave My love to taste of this, the best I have? _King._ Were it the vilest liquor upon earth, Thy touch would render it of matchless worth; Dear shall the gift be held that comes from you; Best proof of love [_drinks_],'tis full-proof Hodges' too; Through all my veins I feel a genial glow, It fires my soul---- _Bombastes_ [_within._] Ho, Distaffina, ho! _King._ Heard you that voice?