_Vols._ Dread sovereign lords, my zeal to you must not invade my duty to your son; let me entreat that great Prince Prettyman first to speak; whose high pre-eminence in all things, that do bear the name of good, may justly claim that privilege. _Bayes._ Here it begins to unfold; you may perceive, now, that he is his son. _Johns._ Yes, sir, and we are very much beholden to you for that discovery. _Pret._ Royal father, upon my knees I beg, That the illustrious Volscius first be heard. _Vols._ That preference is only due to Amaryllis, sir. _Bayes._ I'll make her speak very well, by-and-by, you shall see. _Ama._ Invincible sovereigns---- [_Soft music._ _K. Ush._ But stay, what sound is this invades our ears?[49] _K. Phys._ Sure 'tis the music of the moving spheres. _Pret._ Behold, with wonder, yonder comes from far A god-like cloud, and a triumphant car; In which our two right kings sit one by one, With virgins' vests, and laurel garlands on. _K. Ush._ Then, brother Phys., 'tis time we should be gone. [_The two Usurpers steal out of the throne, and go away._ _Bayes._ Look you now, did not I tell you, that this would be as easy a change as the other? _Smith._ Yes, faith, you did so; tho' I confess I could not believe you: but you have brought it about, I see. [_The two right kings of Brentford descend in the clouds, singing, in white garments; and three fiddlers sitting before them, in green._ _Bayes._ Now, because the two right kings descend from above, I make 'em sing to the tune and style of our modern spirits. _1st King._ Haste, brother king, we are sent from above. _2nd King._ Let us move, let us move; Move to remove the fate Of Brentford's long united state.[50] _1st King._ Tarra, ran, tarra, full east and by south. _2nd King._ We sail with thunder in our mouth, In scorching noon-day, whilst the traveller stays; Busy, busy, busy, busy, we bustle along, Mounted upon warm Phoebus's rays, Through the heavenly throng, Hasting to those Who will feast us at night with a pig's petty-toes. _1st King._ And we'll fall with our plate In an _ollio_ of hate. _2nd King._ But now supper's done, the servitors try, Like soldiers, to storm a whole half-moon pie. _1st King._ They gather, they gather hot custards in spoons: But alas, I must leave these half-moons, And repair to my trusty dragoons. _2nd King._ Oh, stay, for you need not as yet go astray: The tide, like a friend, has brought ships in our way, And on their high ropes we will play Like maggots in filberts we'll snug in our shell, We'll frisk in our shell, We'll frisk in our shell, And farewell. _1st King._ But the ladies have all inclination to dance, And the green frogs croak out a coranto of France.