_Distaf._ O yes, 'tis what's his name, The General; send him packing as he came. _King._ And is it he? and doth he hither come? Ah me! my guilty conscience strikes me dumb: Where shall I go? say, whither shall I fly? Hide me, oh hide me from his injur'd eye! _Distaf._ Why, sure you're not alarm'd at such a thing? He's but a general, and you're a king. [KING _conceals himself in a closet in flat_. _Enter_ BOMBASTES. _Bombas._ Lov'd Distaffina! now by my scars I vow, Scars got--I haven't time to tell you how; By all the risks my fearless heart hath run, Risks of all shapes from bludgeon, sword, and gun. Steel traps, the patrole, bailiff shrewd, and dun; By the great bunch of laurel on my brow, Ne'er did thy charms exceed their present glow! Oh! let me greet thee with a loving kiss---- [_Sees the hat._ Why, what the devil!--say, whose hat is this? _Distaf._ Why, help your silly brains, that's not a hat. _Bombas._ No hat? _Distaf._ Suppose it is, why, what of that? A hat can do no harm without a head! _Bombas._ Whoe'er it fits, this hour I doom him dead; Alive from hence the caitiff shall not stir---- [_Discovers the_ KING. Your most obedient, humble servant; sir. _King._ Oh, general, oh! _Bombas._ My much-loved master, oh! What means all this? _King._ Indeed I hardly know---- _Distaf._ You hardly know?--a very pretty joke, If kingly promises so soon are broke! Arn't I to be a queen, and dress so fine? _King._ I do repent me of the foul design: To thee, my brave Bombastes, I restore Pure Distaffina, and will never more Through lane or street with lawless passion rove, But give to Griskinissa all my love. _Bombas._ No, no, I'll love no more; let him who can Fancy the maid who fancies ev'ry man. In some lone place I'll find a gloomy cave, There my own hands shall dig a spacious grave. Then all unseen I'll lay me down and die, Since woman's constancy is--all my eye. TRIO.--"_O Lady Fair!_" _Dislaf._ O, cruel man! where are you going? Sad are my wants, my rent is owing. _Bombas._ I go, I go, all comfort scorning; Some death I'll die before the morning. _Distaf._ Heigho, heigho! sad is that warning-- Oh, do not die before the morning! _King._ I'll follow him, all danger scorning; He shall not die before the morning. _Bombas._ I go, I go, &c. _Distaf._ Heigho, heigho, &c. _King._ I'll follow him, &c. [_They hold him by the coat-tails, but he gradually tugs them off._ SCENE IV.--_A Wood._ _Enter_ FUSBOS.